Scarlet Wandering Heiress - The Dry Blood Well
by Invincible East
Summary: A world-weary Flandre Scarlet returns to Japan, pursuing a certain lead from the Pacific. Unbeknownst to her, the fate of her kind has already been placed in her hands.
1. I

"Renko, I saw a youkai yesterday."

It was during their evening break from campus in which Maribel decided to inform her friend of the news. Renko stirred the coffee in response, trying to mix the sugar and milk.

"A youkai?" She said, sampling her drink. A tad bit too sweet. "You mean, like on the Internet?"

"No, I saw one in person, at the park yesterday. I don't know what kind of a youkai she is, but she's not human."

"She?" Renko looked at her friend. "By youkai, you mean something like that creature we saw in TORIFUNE, the space station?"

"Well, no, she wasn't as scary as that at a glance. She looked…just like us, in her mid-twenties, possibly. But if you look closely, you can tell she has features no ordinary person should have."

"Such as?"

"I didn't see too clearly, but she had red eyes."

Renko raised an eyebrow. "But a lot of people nowadays have colored pupils, not just red." It was thanks to advances in surgical science. Permanent eye dyes became explosively popular just in time for the turn of the century. Some parents went even as far as altering the genetics of their unborn child so that they will grow up with the desired shades.

"But she was different, Renko. If you were there at the time you would know. Her eyes weren't just red, they were _crimson_ , almost blood-like."

"You have strange eyes too," her friend pointed out, referring to Maribel's unnatural violet pupils. "How would you explain that? Are you a youkai as well? Could it be that you are under the mission of infiltrating the human civilization?"

"If that was the case, I wouldn't be sitting here drinking coffee with you." Maribel regretted the fact that she did not carry her phone yesterday. The one time she thought she didn't need it.

"So what happened to this youkai?" Renko asked. "Did you speak with it…er, her?"

"No way. If she was a youkai, why would I talk to her?" Although, Maribel had to admit, the notion was intriguing. There were loads of question that she could ask about. What was the youkai's purpose there at the park? What is going on with her people in this day and age? Does she have a name?

"At least your day sounded exciting," Renko grumbled, finishing her coffee. "My mom did nothing but nag last night. You should find a job, this, get a boyfriend, that."

"I think it would do you some good if you got either one of those. Not sure about both of them though."

"One is easier to find than the other," with a sigh Renko called for the bill and they promptly exited the cafe.

* * *

The two of them decided to find this youkai after class. The club they belong to, the Secret Sealing Club, had been stagnant in its activities for a while, with mainly tests to share the blame. Finding a youkai would fulfill their patriotic sense of work today. Maribel did pique both of their interests, after all.

Neither of them expected to find her right away when they arrived at the park.

"So is she the one?" Renko pointed at the hooded person discreetly. She was the only one there.

Maribel nodded. That was the one she saw yesterday, and it appeared that they were yet to be seen. The youkai doesn't look too dangerous, as far as her charming features suggested, but would anyone stand around a monster, if given the choice? That creature they encountered at TORIFUNE was different, yet Maribel did not doubt that this person too possesses the ability to give her a nasty scratch like last time, perhaps more.

"I think I might have been mistaken, Renko." Maribel gulped and nudged her friend. It might have been bad idea to come. "Maybe she's just a cosplayer. I don't think we should disturb her."

"A cosplayer? What would she be cosplaying as? A shapeshifter? A vampire?"

She may have said the last word too loud, because it was then the youkai turned her attention to them. The deep color of her pupils confirmed Maribel's testimony. There was no doubt. Those eyes are not natural, more so than the dyes and contacts people find trending at this day and age.

"R-Renko, she's looking this way."

"I-I know."

The youkai stood up. Their first instinct was to bolt, but their legs resisted, refusing to budge. Those bloodstained eyes were beautiful and terrifying at the same time, and they can't help but stare back, like a mouse at the sight of a hawk's looming shadow. They knew, during that moment, they were at her mercy.

"I thought you looked familiar," the youkai said. Up close, she had foreign features not too different from Maribel's. Golden locks and creamy skin could get you far in Japan, though not as much as in the past century. "It's good to see you again, Yukari-san."

Her Japanese, Renko noticed, is nearly perfect. There was only a hint of an accent, hidden behind a stray syllable and untraceable from the first hearing. Another thing she observed was that she possesed quite a queer set of teeth. They were sharp and protruding, looking almost like she grew out her canines to their utmost extremes.

Looking almost like…fangs.

"Oh, and your friend…" the woman stopped and analyzed Renko up and down with those murderous eyes. Those breathtaking eyes. "I've seen your face somewhere before. May I have your name?"

Renko swallowed and felt a lump in her throat. "U-Usami. Usami Renko. I'm a second-year at Kyodai."

"Usami. Where have I heard that name? It must have been a long time ago." She held her chin and pondered, looking at the cloudy sky. "Ah, never mind that. I didn't expect to see you here, Yukari-san. Tell me, how is sister nowadays? Is she still into books from the outside?"

But Maribel did not reply. She could not.

"Yukari-san? Are you all right? You look…disconcerted."

And disconcerted she was. One could argue the reason she could not speak was that of the perturbed fear towards the woman, true, but it was the name she was referred to that bothered her the most.

Yukari. It's certainly not a name she's a stranger to. In fact, she's had several friends who all bore the name. But this is the first time that somebody used it to address her, and for reasons unknown, there was a resonation. The name conjured a feeling that is hard to describe. Her name is Maribel. Maribel Hearn. But she could not figure out why Yukari sounded so complicatedly personal.

"I'm…I'm sorry, miss," she shook her head, managed to tuck away the indescribable emotion for the time being. "My name is Maribel. I'm not…Yukari."

"Oh come now, there isn't anyone here but us."

"Miss," Renko said, having conquered some of her fear for the woman. "She is telling the truth. I've been her friend since high school. This is the first time I've heard someone call her Yukari."

The red-hooded woman took a moment to look at the two. Each time her eyes blinked, they could feel their fear coming back. It's simply impossible to escape once caught.

"How about this?" She threw off her hood, letting it fall behind her nape and revealed her hair, medium length with a tail braided on by her left side. "The sun's hiding behind the clouds today, so I can receive some exposure."

They stared at her full beauty in awe. She is simply gorgeous, if not outright a princess straight from a fairy tale, the two of them noted. Her refined European charms, reinforced by her eligible youth, were plenty enough reason to be pursued by men everywhere of traditional valor and passion.

"Hm."

But those were not the reactions she seemed to be looking for. The woman sighed, and placed back the hood from her red denim jacket. "Still don't recognize me?" She leaned closer to study Maribel's face. "You share the same eyes, and your face…the resemblance is uncanny. Are you really not Yukari Yakumo?"

 _Yakumo…_ Maribel shook her head.

"That settles it. It appears I'm in the wrong here. My apologies. You must be one of her…sorry, it's nothing."

 _One of her…?_

"Um…"

"Oh, and you," she turned to Renko. "I don't know who you are, but you seem to invoke my memories. Are you a youkai, by any chance? Or a magician, a mage?"

"I'm as humans as I can be." Renko, a second-year at Kyodai, responded fiercely, her body momentarily freed of the bind. "Who are _you,_ miss? Are you a youkai?"

"Youkai is too broad a term," the woman said, stepping back. They could feel their tensions easing. "It's like calling you two just humans, instead of by your race or ethnicity. Renko, is it? You got it correct the second time. I'm a vampire."

 _So I was right_ , Maribel thought. They found their answer, but at what cost?

"A-Are you going to eat us, then?" Renko asked, her hands went back to tremble again. "Suck our blood?"

She smiled. It was a friendly gesture, but somehow Renko got the impression that she considered the taste of her flesh in her mind. "I've had my fill. You two are not in that danger anytime soon."

Maribel and Renko exchanged glances. If she's not going to take their blood, then what will she do with them? The Secret Sealing Club, in search for the paranormal, is caught unprepared.


	2. II

Flandre saw the two hurriedly leave. The girl with the white hat and violet eyes—the spitting image of Yukari Yakumo—turned around for a last glance before catching up to her friend, exiting the park to live another day.

The vampire chuckled quietly at their frantic eagerness to get away. The girls, she could tell right away, were trustworthy, and because of that, she let them go without so much as a threat. At the very least they wouldn't tell anyone of the encounter today out of their fear of her coming back to get them.

That being said, she had some business of her own to do. It was the reason why she returned to Japan, after all. The digital billboard hung on the side of a skyscraper displayed that it was 4:12 in the afternoon, the third consecutive day in which her target chose to not appear. He was supposed to pass this area at around 3:30 every day, according to the old lady she had asked, but perhaps she did not remember correctly. _It must be that human disease I've been hearing about,_ Flandre thought, staring at the gray sky. _Alzheimer's._

But she couldn't give up now. There had to be more leads. More clues to find the vampire she had seen two weeks ago, the first of her kind she saw with her own eyes in this world. She had managed to track him down to Kyoto, and if the old lady was mistaken, then she simply had to look for other ways to locate him.

 _Time to get moving._ Flandre stood up from her bench. Patience is not within her character, and she had played the waiting game long enough. According to the forecast, the sun wouldn't be seen until daybreak tomorrow. There is still time.

And then she sensed them. Two. There were two people behind her, and her instincts had somehow failed to warn her of their approach.

"Don't move," one of them ordered, arms wrapped around her neck with enough force that deemed unfitting for such a juvenile voice.

"You must be the one who's been snooping around," the other said. Masculine. "Who hired you? Are you with them? Try anything funny and you'll have time to regret it in the afterlife."

The strength behind those small but sturdy arms, with no room for doubt of their pulverizing potential, and the capability to sneak behind her without being detected in the slightest. Those two were anything but human. Flandre smiled, a cuspid peeking from the corner of her lip. Finally, something to keep this search of hers going.

To answer her captors, the shoulder blades on her back throbbed, and her jacket was torn.

"Wha—"

The hands behind her tried to pull back, but Flandre was faster. She was freed of the chokehold as the hands were severed by the sleek black appendages which erupted from her back, tips sharper than the most durable of knives. Eight crystals of seven brilliant shades of color sprouted from her wings while she rolled forward to the grass, not sparing a second glance at the _No stepping_ sign.

She faced them, hands clenched to suppress a faint but noticeable bloodlust. A small, prepubescent girl whose hair was packed in two tight buns, and a young, hard-faced fellow whose eyes glared more than just daggers at her.

"Sister, are you okay?" The guy lowered himself and helped the girl to reattach her hands back to their sliced stubs. Flandre blinked. They were mended in seconds.

"I'm fine," said the smaller one, gripping her hands to test out their functionality. "It's those wings I'm worried about."

"Who cares about those, I'm going to kill her."

"Haruto, wait."

With a reckless charge, the guy aimed at her throat with his razor-sharp nails. But Flandre evaded his strikes almost effortlessly, ducking and side-stepping from his attempts to maim, the crystals on her wings bouncing. The assailant, taking her moves as a form of ridicule, bared his fangs and increased the aggression of his attacks.

"That's enough, Haruto!"

The youth stopped and, after a reluctant moment, pulled back. Even for a nonhuman, his breath was out of order. That was how futile of an effort it was to hit her.

"Sis, why did you tell me to stop? I can still do this. She's just some—"

The female hit the back of the male's head so hard it made Flandre flinch. She thought she heard the splatter of blood somewhere there.

"Idiot. Can't you see that she's a vampire?"

"I'm not an idiot, I'm—wait, what?" Haruto stopped rubbing where he was hit and blinked several times at Flandre's direction.

"I'm so sorry," the girl palmed her own face and walked up to Flandre, shaking her head. "Please forgive us."

The little steps she took as she approached did not show any signs of hostility, but Flandre unconsciously stepped back, feeling a mountain of enormous energy inside of the girl, which was comparable to her elder sister, Remilia Scarlet. Her eyes, despite not displaying the proud color of their kind, showed an amount of experience accumulated in her lifetime more than Flandre's. No, possibly more than her and her sister's combined. This...creature is old. Immensely old, and she has the wisdom to make up for their gap in raw power. It was one of the few times where she had felt something akin to fear. What will she do if she puts up a fight? She might not even have the time to fight back, let alone crushing her "eye".

"We weren't aware that you...might be one of us," the girl stopped at her front, tilting her head to survey her crystalline wings. "Or at least, related in some sort of way. You _are_ a vampire, right?"

Flandre responded with a cautious nod. She was as tall as her torso. One can easily make the fatal judgment of deeming her as a harmless little girl. "I am."

"Then you must be a highborn." She said. "I don't think I've seen one since the days of old Vlad. Get down, Haruto."

And what began as an ambush transitioned into a prostration session. The girl bowed all the way down to her knees, head touching the ground, while doing the same for her accomplice by mashing his head down.

Flandre, raised by generations of maids and servants since childhood, was not perturbed by her reception, but by the mentioning of the legendary vampire. "Vlad?" She blinked, motioning for them to get up.

"Indeed, Vlad, fully known as Vlad III, otherwise known as the Impaler." Haruto frowned and cleared his throat, but his superior ignored him and continued. "But today he's just referred to as his famous alias, Dracula."

"I think he's my father."

"What?!" Haruto jumped, but he was silenced by the other with a pointed glare.

"You think?" She asked.

"I'm not really sure. My sister used to say that all the time, that we are the direct offspring of Count Vlad Tepes Dracul, and we have his blood flowing through our veins."

Well," the girl said, "I guess that would explain your unusual wings."

She was nonchalant, but the other, Haruto, wasn't happy about how the situation's escalated.

"Sister, she's lying! There is no way she would be that...that scum's lineage!"

"You better shut up right now." The girl forced a smile. "Please excuse him, and accept my apologies for his insults to your father. Vampires nowadays are...well, sensitive at the mention of his name."

Flandre shook her head. "I don't mind. Is there something wrong with him today?"

"Oh, he's long dead. Old Hellsing got him good, or so did the word spread." She studied her with a sort of an intrigued gaze. "You sound like you haven't been in touch with your father. Surely you would know about his demise, famous as it was."

"Probably left her to get a cigarette or something," Haruto sneered.

"I didn't know you were feeling suicidal today. Keep up what you were saying, and you might get your deathwish."

"I'm all right," Flandre said, but she wouldn't say the same for her sister, were she present. "We've been living somewhere isolated from the rest of the world. This is only my...fiftieth-something year returning."

"I'm sure a lot of us would like to see this isolated location, then. The world's forgotten our existence, but that doesn't mean some of them stopped giving us shit." The girl adjusted her scarf, crooked from the encounter, and stuck her own healed hands inside her jacket's pockets. "Well, let's consider our meeting past and a smooth introduction. You were the one who's been searching for someone lately, yes?"

"Yes, but how did you..."

"Aiko-san. The old lady you asked. She was looking out for us, so you must understand." She quickly glanced at Haruto, who was walking around kicking cans. "We thought you were one of them, so imagine the surprise we felt when we saw you."

"Them?"

"Mercenaries. Hitmen. Military spec ops. There are all sorts of them over the world, and the extermination of the supernatural is their profession. They love nothing other than hunting us down like wild dogs. You might as well just call them vampire hunters, because we're pretty much their only target nowadays."

"I still have much to learn about this world, it seems." Flandre frowned. She's seen many of the joys, not to mention the pains, of which humans offered since her arrival to the outside world. But the supernatural has been eluding her for the longest time. Flandre saw no immortal beings other than herself since stepping foot out of Gensokyo, let alone any vampires other than her sister. That is why she came back to Japan. To see if he was really one. "Do you know anything about the one I'm looking for, then? I'm nearly positive that he's a vampire."

"You'll need better descriptions than that. We can certainly try to help, especially if it's concerning kin like you."

Flandre took a deep breath. "Flight 284. How does that sound?"


	3. III

The day grew late, with the gray mixture that is the sky had begun to succumb to the darkness which it has fought for times untold. But despite being a vampire, Flandre couldn't suppress a yawn as she and the two vampires walked down the street. She had been spending the past week searching nonstop. Sleep was the last thing she concerned herself with.

Haruto took the lead, while the other vampire, Swallow, as she told Flandre to call her, trailed behind.

"You can't get too careful these days," she said, eyeing at a stray cat. It shrieked at the sight of her and disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway. "They could be everywhere. Keep your eyes peeled, Haruto. It was only last week when they took Kotori by surprise."

"I remember when humans are scared of vampires," Haruto replied, kicking a pebble into a sewage drain. "This is getting ridiculous."

"Well, I'm sorry that they've been advancing their grip on this world for the past century," Swallow retorted, "and I'm sorry that they managed to remember to use silver with their feeble little brains."

Haurto snorted, but said nothing. As they crossed a small intersection they caught the gaze of a pair of high school girls. They only took a small glance at them before going back to their gossip. It was a good thing that Flandre remembered to tuck her wings in. The only part of her that stood out were the two holes on the back of her jacket, but hey, it's pretty much indistinguishable from modern mortal fashion.

"It looks like you came back at a bad time, Flandre." Swallow said, after making sure the girls were out of earshot.

"I wouldn't say it's that bad, really." she said. "Things were more or less the same from what I remember."

"Hm." Swallow looked at her thoughtfully, following her trail. "When was it that you started living at this haven of yours? Two, three hundred years ago? That was pretty much when things went to shit for us."

Flandre cocked her head, her eyes looking at the dark sky. "Swallow-san, can I ask you a question?"

"You can just call me Swallow. I've been around this world long enough to see myself as common as the next piece of pebble Haruto kicks, so you can drop the courtesies."

Haruto stopped his foot midway at the latest pebble he found and sighed. "Sis, please don't think of yourself that way. You are the oldest one among us. There is no one else we can turn to for help."

"I never had a thing for the limelight. You can respect your elders, but don't treat them like they're the second coming of Jesus fucking Christ. Anyway, what is it that you wanted to ask, Flandre?"

"It's about my father, Vlad."

"What is it that you wish to know?" Swallow ignored Haruto's ramblings. "I never met him in person, but pretty much everybody knows more about him than he probably does himself. All sorts of things from your life get out when you're famous and cold beneath the ground. Or in your father's case, as a smoking pile of ash."

"You said that he was killed by a man." Flandre said, remembering what Swallow said just before. "When did that happen?"

"It was during the 1890's, I believe. They wrote a book recounting the event. Fictitious, yes, but about the most reliable primary source you can find."

"I see." Flandre shifted her gaze to the sidewalk, trying to thinking how she would explain it to her sister at the inevitable day of her return.

They walked in silence for a while, occasionally pointing out a passing car or two, before arriving at their destination. Flandre, as she was told, would find her answers at where they lived.

"We're here." Haruto suddenly stopped, leaving Flandre to almost bump into him. There was nothing to their front. Nothing, she saw when she peeked her head, but a closed manhole in the middle of the road.

"Er."

"Sorry, you don't always get to pick what you want. Haruto, don't you dare go down first. At least you can lift the lid open for her."

There is always a first time for everything.

* * *

The sewers were dark and damp, the former less of a problem than the latter. Rats scurried by, not sparing them a second's glance.

"You can't really ask for better neighbors," Swallow said, taking the lead this time. She raised the ankles of her pants, took off her shoes, and trudged through a stream which went up to her calves. Flandre watched her cross.

"How long are you gonna wait?" Haruto said, impatiently. "Let's go. The leeches die as soon as they have our blood anyway."

 _Leeches…_ "I'll just…"

"Hey! Where're you going?"

She took a small step, then another, until her foot was at the edge of the bank. Momentum carried her steps, and muscle memory took over. Within seconds Flandre was on the other side, without as much as a drop on her pants.

"You can _fly?_ " Haruto exclaimed from where he stood.

"Huh? You mean you can't?"

"I can't either, nor I know anyone who could," Swallow said beside her, taking off her socks and twisting them dry over the questionably colored sewage stream. "And I've been on this wretched world for some time."

"Not even…"

"Not even your dad. People did claim he had wings, though, just not like as extravagant as yours. Are you sure you're related?"

"You'll have to ask my sister about that."

"She sure sounds like she knows a lot. I would like to meet her sometime, if fate allows it."

"I'm sure she would like to speak with another vampire as well."

After Haruto crossed the stream, which was a laborious process full of grunts and curses, they went down further, taking a turn at every minute. And then, all of a sudden, they had reached their destination. Flandre could tell. Eyes of crimson opened up in the darkness, flashing their near-illuminating gazes at their direction.

"Welcome back, Swallow nee-chan."

"Any news from the surface?"

"Hartz needs your attention, he…"

And among them, "Who is that?"

"This is Flandre," Swallow introduced her to the cluster of eyes. She could feel their observations as they whispered to one another. "One of us."

They looked amongst themselves. "Can we really feed another one, Swallow? You know the blood is getting…"

"Is she trustworthy? How do you know if she's not a spy…"

"What?" Flandre stepped forward. "I–"

Swallow stopped her with an arm. "She can manage on her own. I can vouch for that. As for her authenticity…" She tapped her back lightly. Flandre turned to look and was greeted by a nod. Slowly she unfolded her wings, a multitude of colors shining in the dark. Small gasps were let out while their vision glued onto her figure. An organic and alien beauty. "This may be just a hunch, but I think she's more of a vampire than any of us here. Now if you'll excuse me."

When she saw Swallow's gesture for her to follow, Flandre complied. Haruto remained by the entrance, watching them leave before meeting up with another vampire.

* * *

The part of the sewers here was a lot more spacious, leading to smaller rooms which stored supplies. And most importantly, her nose didn't complain. Not as much.

"What you see here," Swallow said as they entered a large, open area, filled with more vampires, "is a meager attempt at preserving the last of our kind, and I am probably one of the last ones to lead them."

It was a sad view, Flandre noted. Some smiled back when she waved at them, but most gave her a tired glance before turning back to what they were doing, whether it was distributing thin, half-filled packs of dark blood, standing guard by the walls, holding one another, or just off in the corner in solitude. A few even prayed audibly, a bold tactic on their behalf.

"Just how bad is it here?" She asked, looking at a thin and shriveled mother feeding her infant child through a small tube of blood. It was a good thing that secondary vampires like them could last longer without feeding. "I heard that the youkai…that what men considered to be paranormal were falling out, but this is my first time seeing it like this."

Swallow, in response, sneered, though it wasn't bad in nature. "You haven't encountered any other species during your travels, have you?"

"No, I've met only humans."

"As you should. The smart ones all went into hiding, and the foolish ones, well, you don't see them for a reason." She placed on a weary smile. "I remember a time when humans feared not just us vampires, but all of the supernatural. Before the age of rationale, before the European Renaissance, before the advancement of science and this so called 'common sense'."

"Our time," added Flandre, somewhat hesitantly, "it has come to an end, hasn't it."

"It had, long ago. For us, it began with the fall of your father."

She couldn't believe it. The first immortal entity she's met since stepping out of Gensokyo just so happened to be leading the last of her kind, trying to delay an inevitable doom.

"It was bound to happen. Our hubris brought this upon us."

Like the same hubris her sister wore proudly, long ago. But she too, had paid the price. Remilia Scarlet's vanity is now only a shadow of itself, and in a way, Flandre understood, having witnessed what her people struggled with.

"But this shouldn't concern you," Flandre was told as she was lead to one of smaller the rooms in the back. "What you seek, Flandre, lies before. This is Heron."

Inside the dark room, where the only source of light is a dim candle on the table beside, is a bed. On it was a something too grotesque to be a person. Flandre drew her breath.

"What happened to you…"

The thing shifted the only eye it had, an uneven red sphere. It's missing three of its limbs, and swelling holes of flesh decorated its torso, still bleeding profusely. The room smelled of a pending death that is stronger than the general refuge.

"He's the one you're looking for." Swallow stood beside Heron's bed.

"Swallow," the voice, which came from a spot that did not resemble a mouth, was surprisingly coherent. "Who is this ? I can sense power inside her greater than any of us."

"She claims to be the direct offspring of Dracula." She looked away from him. "And a passenger of Flight 284."

"Ah…"

The only sound in the room was the irregular breathing of the horrendously wounded creature. "Your injuries," Flandre approached to the side of the bed slowly, "they should be healed. Why?"

"Silver, young fang."

She remembered. Guns. Machine guns, pistols, rifles. Deadly balls of pure silver tore through the vampire, then a gray-haired but stubborn hunk of an old timer. But despite the supposed overkill, his rage proved to be greater than the lethality of their weapons. The plane broke in half and plunged into the ocean, leaving all but one to sleep with the fishes.

"How did you survive?" Flowing water is one of the many weaknesses a vampire must have. As for herself, Flandre managed to escape the Pacific by flying covertly, hiding beneath the clouds and mingled between flocks of seagulls as much as she could to avoid precise satellite photos. But it was today that she was made aware that not all vampires could fly.

The exposed muscles on Heron's face tightened into what she thinks to be a smile. Swallow crossed her arms and sighed, rather ruefully. "The fool he is, desperate to prove himself and transcend a vampire's limits."

"What happened, Swallow? What did he do?"

"He swam. One of my contacts at Sasebo found him drifted ashore."

The room found its silence again. Truth be told, the task is not entirely impossible. It's just very close. Unlike the sun, water isn't a weakness that can be instantaneously fatal. It restricted the movement of the body accordingly to the amount one was surrounded with. A vampire can make themselves swim as a human can move when picked up by an electromagnetic crane while stuffed inside a suit of armor. Tremendous willpower is absolutely imperative to perform such a feat. And to think her sister dismissed the validity of other vampires.

"It must have been an excruciatingly difficult journey," Flandre said, looking at the helpless vampire. He may have achieved the impossible, but he doesn't have much time left. Even a human could tell.

"The water only made his wounds worse," said Swallow, sorrow beginning to take over her eyes. "It's a miracle that he's still here."

Flandre turned around. She saw what she came for. The vampire that caused the plane crash, prematurely ending its flight from Sydney. All those lives had perished at the bottom of the ocean. And for what? She stepped towards the exit. There is nothing more to see. To other humans, Heron would be labeled a mass murderer, but to her, he is nothing but the reason why fate has been cruel to her kind.

"Wait…"

She stopped, but did face him.

"Think ill of me, call me a remorseless killer, I do not care. But if you truly are the descendant of Dracula, then know that there are many who despises him, not just the families and friends of his victims, but others of his kind. He is why we were hunted down like dogs."

"Heron."

"Yanzi," he said to Swallow, "let me. Do you feel regret, little girl? Guilt? Do you feel responsible for what has happened? Don't. They were only human. Cattle. What is a pig to a human? And what is a human, to a vampire?"

She did not answer.

"The fear of our presence, the awe summoned by our names, they all died that day with your blasted father. We were once a proud species, the embodiment of the devil, manifestation of Hell on Earth. The night was our hunting ground, the moon our guardian angel. Mortals alike lived in terror every day, trembling in their shacks, their cottages, their houses, their palaces. Tales were passed down, and songs were grimly sung. The world was once ours. It all ended with him, the supposed peak, the self-proclaimed vampire of vampires. Power he had, no doubt, but the same power made his defeat a victory legendary."

Heron's voice began to grow hoarse, and blood poured out of his wounds as he gagged at his words.

"The humans triumphed. If, their frail minds thought, Dracula could be brought down, then the rest of the filth could be exterminated. 'The end of an era', they said, the end of our era. Hunters were rallied, silvers were forged, schools opened. Mobs lead by the so called heroes flooded our caves, our hideouts, flushed us out of our homes, if fortunate. The usual was a painful death by holy water and the despicable metal.

Swallow placed her hand on her shoulder, head shaking, Flandre only looked at her.

"And it was not just us. Others of different origins, werekins, mythical beasts, spirits. Even the noble creatures were not spared. Those who escaped the centuries of onslaught turned their thoughts away from the world and hid, perhaps until the last star in the universe fades. The rest were sentenced to eventual extinction."

"So is this where we are?" Flandre muttered, her hands balled into fists.

"You…will serve a fate no different from your father. If you die…we all die." Heron's breathing increased to a rapid level. Swallow quickly went to his side, who was brushed away with a deformed hand. "It was your accursed family…that created this fate. The immortals have no one to blame…but you…and your father…I destroyed that flight to prove a point: vampires…can still be fearsome. Yet in the end, I…too perish in the process. How ironic…"

"Destruction begets destruction," Swallow muttered, crestfallen.

"I will not live to see the end…of this…cycle. But…I…I have no regrets. My life as a…vampire…a child of the darkness…it was…it was…"

Heron did not live to finish his sentence. With his final heartbeat the silver inside of him split, and his organs burst open, spraying blood all over the ceiling, the bed, and the ones who had witnessed his last moment as a proud vampire.


	4. IV

Flandre didn't get a minute of sleep since yesterday. The night after Heron's death, she idly moved about hideout, watching the refugees fixing disrepairs in their home and kids running around with blood packs.

The next night, after spending the day sitting on the bed in the room she was given, Flandre decided to lend her aid. They were wary at first, eyeing the sudden newcomer with a certain suspicion. Days passed, which turned to weeks, before they realized her help was necessary and out of pure kindness. Flandre worked willingly, fixing the hard to reach leaks with her unique ability to fly and delivering blood with ease. At evenings, when the sun had sheathed beneath the horizon, she went up to the surface with Haruto to check on any signs of lost kin and movements of the hunters. She hasn't found herself this busy since her lessons with her sister long ago, but she knew it was she wanted. The decision to stay was out of her own will, and Flandre Scarlet will remain with them until one certain end or another.

One night, just an hour before the break of dawn, Haruto stopped and did not follow her to the manhole.

"You go on ahead," he said, "I need to check on something first."

Flandre watched him turn and went down the street. Not much news was gathered today, not that it wasn't usual. The reason that she was allowed to come up as one of the scouting party is because of her choice of attire, as well as her uncovered eyes. No sane vampire would walk around the city wearing red, and people more than often assumed she was wearing red contacts, sometimes complimenting them out of the blue. Haruto and Swallow were the only ones whose face weren't marked by the hunters, the former was only a human until a year ago, and the latter has enough sense of discreet by nature. The vampires pooled up what they had and helped them to purchase two pairs of normal colored contacts, which were expensive but reliable.

"Is it only you today?" Swallow came from across the road, holding a small plastic bag in her hand.

"He said he has to take care of some business."

"Ah," Swallow smiled, tossing the pack up and down in her small hand. "He has my permission then. It's been a while. Speaking of which, here."

Flandre caught the bag. Inside is a pack of blood, but it's only half filled.

"That was the last the hospital was willing to give. It's not much, but I figured you deserved it the most."

She shook her head. "I'm all right. Kotori's brother needs it more than I do. His thirst was getting worse when we stepped out."

Swallow nodded. "You can't blame on them, really. They've been trying their best to supply us secretly for years. If anything they should be thanked for how long they've been continuing this. They know they are risking themselves by helping us."

It was proven that not all humans are fanatics who wants to wipe her kind off the face of the earth. Flandre understood that well, maybe too much of so. The maid who served in her household where she grew up, Sakuya, was her best friend then, and a cherished memory at present. Even Remilia , a vampire's pride incarnate, had trusted her completely. And there was also the mage-thief Marisa and the enterprising shrine maiden Reimu, to name a few. Her childhood was filled with memories of being around humans, and most, if not all, were pleasant. That is why she couldn't understand the blind hatred and contempt for mortals Heron had. It was that attitude which caused the downfall of her kind, and the day will soon come when they will pay the ultimate price. She's not a naïve girl anymore, who throws violent tantrums and incapable of keeping her emotions in check. She knew there will be no miracle to avoid this fate, no last minute help from others to buy more time. The only thing she could do is to stay by their side and witness their fate in person.

The two of them entered the manhole, leaving the lid tightly shut so that Haruto will know they went down smoothly.

* * *

"What are we going to do without the hospital?" Flandre asked when they arrived down below, watching Kotori's little brother sipping on her blood pack happily through a plastic straw. "Do you have any other contacts?"

Swallow shook her head. "They were the only ones in here who are willing to help. No, scratch that, they might have been the only one in Japan."

"How much more do we still have?"

"There is enough to last for another month, if we ration well. I think it's time to consider that idea of mine to move to New Zealand." She sighed. "Truth be told, Flandre, I don't know how long I could keep this up. These poor souls, they call me sister, and think I'm a better leader than the last, but I know better."

Moments of pessimism such as this, Flandre had noticed, grew common ever since Heron's end. It's taken a toll on Swallow.

"We've been on the run since the West. We took shelter in Poland, lived in your father's old castle in Romania, hid from them in Turkey. Before we know it, the East was the only direction we could go, where their presence were not as large. There had been quite a few who joined us along the way, and more had met their end. I am tired, Flandre. We're all tired."

"Of running."

"Like the rest of us, Flandre, I was once human. There was no shortage of poor, uneducated peasant girls living in a backwards village in eleventh-century China. Life was hard, but simple. You eat, shit, sleep. If you are lucky, you get to live a couple decades after giving your first kid, but usually the bucket was kicked by then."

"And then you received vampirism."

"Some, like Heron, called it a blessing. Some, like my uncle, long dead, called a curse."

"What was your opinion?"

"I didn't know. And to tell you the truth, I still don't, even after living a life that was supposed to end more than a millennia ago. It simply didn't change anything. The process is still the same; eat, shit, sleep, except you can do it a bit longer."

"But what about the powers it offered? Surely it would have made a difference, transcending a human's limits."

"And have all these weaknesses in exchange? I remember the days of frolicking on a hot summer day with young boys from the village. I remember the coolness of taking a dip in the river. I remember my mouth salivating over by the smell of dishes cooked with garlic." Swallow chuckled at that one. "You can't call yourself a Chinese without garlic in your life.

"I didn't use my powers, Flandre. I didn't need to. Life was the same, with or without it. Things were heck of a lot easier with the occasional and desperate bandit raid, sure, but at the end of the day, I was still the youngest daughter from a poor family of peasants. No offense, but you Western kinds worship it more than it ever needs."

The Western highborn smiled her trademark way of doing so, a single cuspid peeking from the side of her lip. "My sister would love to hear that."

"And she should." Swallow's expression tensed, and she reached her arms to clasp on Flandre's shoulders. "Things are not going well, Flandre. Even Kotori's brother could see that. I don't know how it came to be, but I'm not suited to be their leader. I've seen enough things go in life already."

Flandre touched her hand, her face solemn.

"I've no illusions, nor a romantic. Our kind will die. But that doesn't mean you should as well. Go back to wherever you came from, find your sister, and hide from this wretched world. We, the inferior sub-species, will finally be out of your way." Her hands began to shake. "Please. This is our last request. Hear from your blood kin. Avenge us. Make them fear the night again."

The heir to Dracula's name made no response, instead, her eyes averted to the sight of Kotori and brother. From there, she looked around the openness of the underground hideout. Orbs of crimson dotted the dark sanctum, some looking at her way, some at another. People from all around the world are gathered here, sharing the same looks, wearing the same skin as humans, yet they were being hunted down like animals. Many of them became vampires involuntarily, and fewer of them actively used their powers.

Swallow wants her to strike back. She wants her and Remilia to enact the same suffering and humiliation their kind had to endure. And it would be easy, ridiculously easy.

She closed her eyes and felt the grip on her shoulders tighten. Swallow's conviction is firm. But so is hers.

"No," Flandre said, looking into the windows to Swallow's old soul. "That is not the way to go. Destruction, as you said, only begets more destruction. If we take up this will and cast it upon the world, we will meet a fate that is as destructive as the hatred we spread. Even someone like me, whose sole blessing in life is to destroy, understands that."

"Then take it over from here," Swallow retaliated, "and lead them. You are the descendant of the most powerful vampire that's ever lived. The least you could do is to give them hope."

She shook her head. "You are asking the wrong person. I'm no leader, and I'm certainly not the descendant. That would be my sister, Remilia." Flandre removed the hands on her shoulder and turned towards the sanctum's other exit.

"Who are you, then, if you are not of Dracula's blood?"

"I am Flandre Scarlet, and I will not stand idly by and watch my kind die before me." She placed her hood on and left. The surface, she hoped, would have answers.


	5. V

The sun hung high in the sky. stinging the eyes of many, ignorant of mercy and moderation. Clouds were nowhere to be seen, a respite from the previous days of drizzle and calm winds. The month is October, yet the sun remained stubborn, clinging onto the past season where it missed its opportunity to shine.

No sane vampire would come out on a day like this, but then again, those who had witnessed a few of Flandre's past rampages wouldn't consider her so. For hours she strolled through the streets of Kyoto at a leisure pace, scarlet hood over her head and hands in her pockets. The only skin she showed was of her delicate face, and she was careful not to expose it to the light.

Being a highborn, what Swallow calls the sub-species of her kind, she was granted powers even beyond of a normal vampire's. But at the same time, the potency of her weaknesses—sunlight, flowing water, garlic, silver, and holy objects, to name a few—nearly doubled at the expense of the overwhelming strength she possesses. Even the handicap of being unable to enter a house without formal invitation turned into a legitimate problem, instead of a mild inconvenience at worst. A speck of sunlight would turn her skin to dust, her bones to powder, her muscles to dried gunk. And any small gust can blow her hood back, revealing her face to the agonizing scowl of the sun. But she wasn't concerned. Discretion, after decades of aimless wandering, became second nature, not to mention the Spartan training Remilia imposed upon her at her coming of age—to live outside the mansion for a year with no assistance from anyone whatsoever. With only a layer of denim to keep her from an otherwise unsightly tan, Flandre knew the risks well enough to not lose her head.

Besides, she was concerned with a different matter. The end of her kind is nigh, she doesn't deny that, but after that conversation with Swallow she couldn't help but want to at least do something about it. Delay it a little further, perhaps, or alleviate the sense of dread down there. To do nothing while waiting for their doom does not sit well with Flandre.

The first idea she had come to was a quaint one: the vampires couldn't fight back, but she can. Flandre, according to her sister, received the strength of their father, while Remilia inherited his charisma. Even if the prospect of Dracula as their father is questionable, there is no denying the terrible power she was born with: the ability to destroy anything at will. Absolute anything, so long as they're within her range of vision. Vampire hunters, armed or whatnot, are no exception from this rule.

She grunted, shaking her head at the thought. It's precise ideas like these that brought upon this fate to her kind. The more they fight back, the more fuel is poured to the conflict, and the longer it would last. To truly stop this war, they must come to an understanding. Vampires can integrate themselves as formal members of the human society, or coexist along one another.

No, that wouldn't do either. Humans can be radical, especially when they're motivated by nothing but pure hatred. To them, peace was long thrown out as an alternate option. They wouldn't care if vampires chose to parley. If they couldn't even get along with themselves, who is she to think they would with another race?

 _Damn it,_ she scowled, careful to avoid the sunlight in her eyes, _this is getting nowhere._ There is no way she will stand by the sides watching her kind to perish, but there has to be a way for her to do something without escalating the friction further. There must.

 _What should I do, sister? I wasn't lost when we fought, I wasn't lost when Yukari helped me to run away, I wasn't lost when I was on my own in this world for fifty years. So why am I now, when the fate of our kind is at stake?_

She made an ugly grimace, fangs bared. Deep philosophy just wasn't her thing, and neither when she has to make decisions for others.

* * *

Flandre kept on walking, but she had long stopped over-thinking. Or thinking, for that matter. Her head can get pretty tired after a mental ordeal like that. It's a good thing extended periods of walking had proven to be calming. When she found herself arriving at a residential area, she stopped to get a good look at the couple standing in the front of the community gate, where the elderly security yawned as he waited for them to finish talking. One of them, a young man with disheveled hair, is holding an umbrella.

"Well, see you, Mayumi."

"Bye-bye, Haru-kun."

The girl turned, went past the gate, and entered the apartment complex. Haruto stood there, watching her leave.

"What are you still doing up here?" Flandre walked up to him. "The sun is strong. You should head back."

Haruto let out a surprised yelp, and he would have crumbled into a pile of dust were it not for Flandre's deft hands catching the umbrella. "You surprised me," he said, holding onto his chest. "I didn't hear you coming at all."

"Payback for last time," she smiled. "So who was that human? The way you've been eyeing her…Is she…you know."

"Well," he scratched his head, a sheepish expression on his face, "yes. We've been going out for half a year now."

Flandre blinked. "Going out? What are you… _oooooh_." She took a glance at the building the girl named Mayumi disappeared into. "Right. I thought she was, well, a prey. Was about to ask if Swallow permitted such luxuries today."

Haruto frowned. "That's not funny, Flandre, nor it's a pleasant thing to bring up. I would never see her as a source of feeding. She is everything to me."

"Everything? Like what? What is she to you?"

"She completes me. Without her, I wouldn't know my place in this world." He glanced up at the building. "In other words, I love her."

Love. The strongest emotion a sentient and intelligent being could feel. Nearly everyone she knew experienced it, and as far as she knew, it was a wonderful feeling, to be with the people you love.

"I see." She nodded. "If Swallow doesn't have a problem, I don't see why I should. Does she know, by the way?"

"…Yes. For some time. But it doesn't bother her. She even offered to let me take her blood once. Mayumi, I mean." he added.

"I'm guessing you refused?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have a drop of her blood so long as I live."

"It's going to be a long time." And then there is the other dilemma, of immortals falling in love with mortals. One of them doesn't stay around as long. "I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

Haruto seemed to get what she was saying, as he didn't vocally respond immediately. His eyes fell to the ground.

"Well, not that I'd know anything about that myself," Flandre tried to dissipate the sullen mood. She didn't mean to make him feel that way. "C'mon, if you're done here, you'd be better down in the sewers. It's not good to be near sunlight, even if you're not directly affected by it."

"You're the one to talk," he said, but his lips suppressed a slight smile. "I'll see you around, then. Take care."

"As to you."

She watched the boy leave. _Must be nice to have someone like that,_ she thought, the image of the two smiling at one another hung up in her mind.


	6. VI

Before long it's already sundown. Flandre stopped at the front of a sweet shop. She doesn't need any feeding, as she had done so long ago before coming to Japan, but food is still something one needs to have from time to time. Especially sweets.

 _…No._ She forced herself to turn. She still hasn't come up with a way to help the vampires. What would they think when they find out she was stuffing her face with pastries, while they were cowering down in the sewers, practically rotting away as they wait for their inevitable death each day? All the sweets in the world wouldn't be able to drown the bitter aftertaste she would have. Besides, she didn't have the money. Money that could be used in Japan.

Flandre sighed and dragged herself away from the shop. The sun threatened to shine in her face, but she couldn't care any less. She had wandered enough. It's time to go back and give Swallow an answer, one that she hasn't quite found to be substantial.

Fate, however, is a whimsical thing, and for the day it favored her. Before she could move far away from the shop, a pair of awfully familiar faces walked past, and a moment later, all three of them stopped and turned to one another.

"Oh, you're…" The one named Renko said.

"It's you two," Flandre said, smiling. "How are things going?"

"We're doing fine," Maribel, whom she had mistaken initially as Yukari, replied. "Were you just coming out of the shop, by the way?"

"Well, I…"

Before she could reason, the two invited her to the sweet shop. They picked a table by the windows, seats cushioned with comfortable leather and menus digitally displayed.

"I think I'll have the strawberry parfait," Renko said, tapping her item's picture on the embedded touchscreen. "What about you, Merry?"

"I dunno, maybe something new." Maribel scrolled through sections of desserts, undecided. Flandre only stared at the items. "I'll just get the coconut cold brew."

The two of them nodded, evidently not strangers to this establishment or its ordering process. They looked up at Flandre in unison. "What about you, vampire-san?"

"Flandre," she answered, though not to their question. "Call me Flandre. And just so let the two of you know," she shoved her hands in her pockets and emptied them out. Proof of a traveler.

Maribel traded looks with her friend, then nodded. "You don't need to sweat it, Flandre-san. It's on us."

"Me, specifically." Renko sighed, but she also nodded. "What do you want? I'd recommend something, but just about anything at this place is good."

"I…Well that's awfully generous of you two. Hm…" She swiped through the menu, dazed by the plethora of items it offered. They came in dozens, no, _hundreds_. "Uh…give me a minute."

"How about their caramel apple cheesecake? I had it once and it was absolutely worth the teeth ache."

"The chocolate custard pie is also great, if you have a big craving."

"Don't forget the hazelnut tart with honeyed raspberries."

"Ah, that Italian Fruit Boat they had on special last week wasn't bad, either. It's basically seven different flavors of soft gelato topped with corresponding fruits and whipped cream."

"You can't go wrong with the classics, too. The daifuku here are great, and their Dango is a good treat to have on an afternoon like this. Wow, that sounds perfect, actually. I'm gonna order some to take home."

In the end, after much debate (unexpectedly), Flandre settled on a small plate of the savory pastry her sister teased that she was named after: flan. When the waiter brought her order to their table, Renko was already halfway through with her parfait, while Maribel sipped her drink calmly with a straw.

Flandre poked the flan lightly with a spoon. It responded with a delightful jiggle, like the soft fat on a baby's face. She carved a small section and placed it in her mouth. The cool, slippery custard, followed up by a firm sweetness. The taste was not the same, but it was enough to remind her of the times she had spent her favorite maid, Sakuya. Back when she was still locked up in the basement, the maid would regularly smuggle in dessert under the pretense of cleaning. Among those, flan was the most delicious.

She blinked, her crimson pupil faintly reflected by the flan's surface. Maybe she needed this after all.

* * *

A short while later, when she was finished eating, Maribel insisted on ordering her something to drink, to which Renko agreed reluctantly. She decided on a glass of cold cranberry juice, simply for the aesthetic factor.

"So," Flandre said, stirring the ice with her straw, "to what do I owe the pleasure? I don't doubt you two's character, but surely there is a motive for treating me all this? And that is not without a word of thanks, by the way. The flan was delicious."

The girls, particularly Maribel, tightened their jaws.

"Well?"

"Flandre-san, right?" Maribel said, her hands folded by her knees underneath the table. "To keep the story short, the two of us belong to a club, and its grand aim is to investigates the paranormal, though as you can imagine our activities are currently limited to our area."

"The Secret Sealing Club," Renko said.

"Right, that's us."

"So you two just want to…investigate me?" Somehow, she doubted it.

Maribel took a deep breath, which then she used the opportunity for a quick drink. "Well," she said, after taking a large sip. Was she getting anxious around her? "Renko doesn't have anything to do with this. It's just me. She only came to represent our club. I'm the one who has an interest."

"Go on."

"The name you called me the other day. Yukari Yakumo."

Flandre shifted her eyes to her drink.

"Nobody has ever called me by that name before. It was my first time hearing it, but I felt an odd connection. You said you had mistaken me for someone else. Who then, is Yukari?"

"You treated me so that you may ask this?"

"Merry was planning to look for you today," Renko explained. "Us finding you here was pure coincidence."

 _And when they saw me by the shop, they improvised a plan to win me over._ Flandre thought. _Not bad._

"I'm sorry if I'm being rude, but please, I have to know. It's bugging me to no end. I've called my parents, who're overseas, my relatives, and my friends. They all have no clue on what I'm talking about. I'm not asking much, Flandre-san. If it's more sweets you want, then it's on the house."

Her friend staged a cough, but she ignored her.

"I—We wouldn't tell anyone of your existence in the city, if that's what you prefer." Maribel went on. "We can even forget that we know each other. Anything you ask, we'll try our best to fulfill it."

"But in return, you want me to answer your question."

She was greeted by a firm nod. Flandre sighed and rubbed her temple.

"I knew I shouldn't have called you that. Now look what I got myself into. Can I assume that if I do not cooperate, you would consider informing others my of existence, my identity?"

"We wouldn't go so far as blackmailing," she finally said, after a brief silence, "but…"

"All right, I heard you. No need to go that far." She couldn't risk people finding out about Swallow and the others. Besides, it really was just a harmless question. "Fine. I suppose it's unfair to not tell you anyway." She took a drink, trying to recall the stories she had heard from Remilia, Sakuya, Patchouli, as well as Marisa and the shrine maiden. The information was at least decades old, but it made more sense than anything else. "Yukari Yakumo is a powerful youkai," she explained, "who so just happened to look like you. A lot. You are practically a younger version of her."

Maribel sat with her back straight, hands on her knees.

"There's isn't much else I can say. You," she pointed, "are Yukari."

"I'm…what?"

"I guess you would call it a clone, or a doppelganger. You are a complete copy of Yukari Yakumo. I don't know why you were created, nor am I interested to know. It's her business." Yukari did help her get out of Gensokyo, after all. The least she could do is to stay out of her schemes.

"This Yukari," Maribel said, more curious than shocked at the revelation, "do you happen to know her, Flandre-san?"

"To an extent. But the true answer, if you ask me, is no. No one really knows her, who she is, or what she is thinking." She sipped through her straw, glancing at the street across from the shop. "I've heard that she had copies of herself spread across the outside world, but you're the first that I've met, face to face. And I have to say, the resemblance is uncanny." Even old Remilia wouldn't be able to discern who's who, if Yukari could hop back a century or two's worth of aging.

"I…see," Maribel said, her eyebrows furrowing at certain thoughts.

"Wait, Merry, don't tell me you actually believe what she's saying?" Renko, who's been quiet so far, jumped in. "I was willing to believe that youkai and vampires are real, but this is just crossing the line."

"You are free to believe what you think," Flandre answered her. "Your friend asked me a question. I simply answered with what I know."

Renko pushed herself atop the table, but to her mild surprise she did not have anything to toss out. "C'mon, Merry," she said instead, getting up and placing on her hat. "There's nothing else for you to do here. Let's go."

"Huh?" Maribel blinked. "Oh. Um, but I…"

"It's getting late. We're leaving."

Her friend was hesitant. "But…"

"The money's paid, she's fine."

An absent look hung over her face as Maribel was getting dragged away. However, the pair left before Flandre noticed there was something left behind.

 _This is…a physical book?_ She looked at the cover. A small bumblebee sat at the center of the amber page, the tears of its wings painted with a variety of eye-catching colors. _My Love for the Stained Glass of Yale,_ it is titled. It must have belonged to either of the two, and should be fairly pricey given the rarity of its genuine pages. She grabbed hold of the novel and exited out the door, but the pair was nowhere to be seen.

She wondered briefly if she really did screw up the other day. It must have triggered a response to Maribel, but to what extent? And what are the implications? Far as she knew, there is only one person in the world who held the answers to those questions.

Flandre looked at the book again, then decided it was time to head back.


	7. VII

"[The] only story to read on your deathbed."

-Anonymous

From the most enigmatic writer of the 21st century comes the unforgettable one-hit wonder of his time. _My Love for the Stained Glass of Yale_ is Franson's attempt at shacking the shackles imposed by modern society.

 _U.S. $17.00_

 _CAN $21.99_

 **Shanghai & Alice Publications**

* * *

Flandre set the book down. The back did not help when she first set out to read. What kind of obnoxious book only has a cryptic claim at the top and a kissy acclaim at the back cover, in place of the usual blurb? Fortunately, people do not judge a book by its back cover, and the cute, flashy bee on the front has a plenty of eye-catching potential.

Ever since she happened to hold onto it the other day, Flandre decided to flip through its pages and see what the world three-quarters of a century earlier was like. By the end of its three hundred and sixteen pages, she had found her answer: not much. But that alone wasn't her primary motivation to blaze through the thing page by page, text to text. It was the story. She had heard of people having the strings in their hearts tugged and plucked before, and until the emergence of this book in her life she had difficulty relating. It was too bad that her own strings weren't tugged. Not at all. They were shredded by the hands of the author not unlike the hair-raising concert she had witnessed during her stay in Switzerland.

So much the reason why frustration couldn't capture her feelings when she couldn't read the last twenty pages. The story was about to end on a high note. Its plot was going to settle down and have a family, maybe retire. This abrupt cliffhanger couldn't have come at a worse time. Was this part of the story? Did the author relish in torturing his readers? Flandre took the book and pushed open the mangled gate of a door. She went and found Swallow.

"Is there a library around here? No, a bookstore?"

The vampire stood on an elevated part of the central passageway. She liked to spend hours watching the refugees come and go. "There should be. This is Kyoto, after all." Swallow eyed the paperback Flandre was carrying. "Must have cost you a fortune to get that."

Flandre shook her head. "It doesn't belong to me. I just want to see if something was intended as part of the book."

"You mean like a twist so unbelievable it makes you question the quality of the copy, as well as the very nature of reality?"

"Something like that."

"Well," she did not seem to have expected an answer, "the stores around here only deal in Japanese books. I doubt the old fogies there understood a lick of English. You could always try searching it online."

"We have working internet here?"

"Nope, which is why I recommend you to go out and explore. There should be some small time establishments that still catered towards people who don't have their own devices."

"For free, right?"

"Heh," Swallow sat and curled up a knee, "you came back to this world half a century too late."

"You know, Swallow, you'd look pretty dashing if you smoked."

"Would I now? A lot of people has said that to me. I suppose it's high time to try it out. Haruto! Hey!" She hollered across the sewers, her small voice piercing through the hallways. No Haruto came rushing to her aid. "Dammit, where is that fucking kid when you need him."

* * *

It wasn't hard to find one of those places. Kyoto prides itself upon its traditions, and stubborn, run-down shops that refuse to bankrupt are among the oldest. Even when commercial trips to the surface of the moon became available to the average citizen, there's bound to be those who remained with the classics. The shop Flandre found herself in specializes in technology from the early 21st century, a brief era which saw the rise of the internet. Vintages models of desktops displayed behind glass panels, a quaint method of preservation which she had no problems with.

"Ah?" The shopkeeper, a stern looking man in his balding ages allowed himself to be surprised at the sight of a customer for a brief moment. "Oh, welcome. As you can see we have a modest collection of tech from ages ago. Feel free to come to me if you want anything. Are you an enthusiast, miss? Or a fellow collector, perhaps?"

Flandre smiled, shaking her head. "Sorry, I'm neither. Do any of these work?" She pointed at the scattered pile of laptops with cracked screens and missing keys, figuring those to be the cheapest.

"Sure, sure." The shopkeeper picked up a miserable model and brushed away the dust. "I could repair 'em in no time. For a small fee of course."

"What about Wi-Fi?"

"Part of the package. You can use the one here once I'm done." He pointed at a small note pinned against the wall behind him. The name to the store's network was hastily scribbled, as well as its SSID.

"How much?" She asked, even though she wasn't carrying a single yen.

"Considering that you've shown more interest in my stuff than all of my customers this previous month combined, I think I could get you a reasonable price. Let's see…" He punched in some numbers in an old-fashioned calculator. "Eight thousand yen, tax included. Come back in an hour and this one will be good as new. Well, as new as it was back then."

 _Eight thousand yen…_ She recited the number in her head. Perhaps she shouldn't have spent the money she started with so freely. All the stuff she had bought, plus what was left of it, plunged right into the ocean.

"Uh," Flandre scanned through the shop. Everything else was of no use to her. Video game consoles, micro-ovens, vacuum cleaners. All she needed was to find out what happened at the end of the book. "Can't I just use something that works here? I only need to use the internet…"

"For free?"

"For free."

The shopkeep placed down the laptop and crossed his arms. "No can do, miss. This place is hard to run already. I need to support myself too." He sat down. "If you want to use computers for free, you came to this world half a century too late."

 _Really?_ Flandre clenched her hands. _This again?_ She's not going to give up without finding out what happened, dammit. There was still a hidden ace up her sleeve. It worked a few times before, when she had run out of ideas. Perhaps now would be a good time. "That's too bad, mister." Flandre leaned towards him over the counter and dragged her zipper down to an ideal degree of exposure. "Hey…isn't it a little hot in here?"

"No, it isn't. The air condition's on."

"Oh, er, in that case, I'm feeling quite chilly." She pushed against him, leaned on his arm. "Brr, it's so cold. Would you mind…warming me up~?"

"If you're not going to buy anything, miss, I suggest you leaving."

 _Blast._ Does this man not prefer the opposite sex? Her elegant charms never failed her when she counted on it. It should work especially well here, as foreigner looks still had an impression to the Japanese.

"C'mon, please~?" She nudged playfully towards him. "I'll show you something fun, if you let me use the internet."

"You don't intend to buy anything, do you? I'm going to call the police for sexual harassment if you keep this up, miss."

"Tch." Flandre separated herself from him. Anyone who doesn't appreciate her looks is not worth her time away. She'll just have to find another store to try her luck.

And just to her luck, the moment she stepped out a dark cloud gathered over Kyoto, and Flandre avoided the first drop of rain in time. Soon it was pouring over the city.

"Ah," the shopkeep observed, "a post-summer shower. It's quite tranquil, isn't it?"

"Not when you're like me," Flandre muttered. She did not foresee this change in the weather. "Do you have an umbrella to spare?"

"Five-hundred yen per hour."

And now she couldn't leave, even if she wanted to.


	8. VIII

Nearly an hour passed, and the rain still hadn't let up. The shopkeep sat by the counter eating a box of cheap store-bought bento.

"So, what brought you to this city?" He said betwixt chewing a piece of tuna. "There are a plenty of things to see in Kyoto. Why come to this area?"

Flandre inched away from the store's entrance, crouched beneath the establishment's awning.

"You definitely don't look Japanese, little miss." He picked up the pickled plum with his chopsticks and casually tossed it into a bin below him. "Although I have to say, you sure speak well for a foreigner. You raised here?"

A splash of rain bombarded the area just a little ahead of her shoes. She put on the hoodie. "For a while, yes."

"What were you trying to look for online? It's a little hard to believe a girl your age don't carry a phone. Confiscated by your parents?"

"Probably."

"Know what, little miss." The guy put down his dinner. "Since I'm such a nice guy, why don't you tell me what you wanted to see? I'll search it up for you, free of charge."

"I prefer to do it myself, if possible."

"That I can't do. What if you look up something illegal? It's my computer you're using, and my search history you're tainting."

She felt for the book inside her jacket, thought over her choices, and sighed. "Fine," Flandre held it over the entrance. "Do you know this book?"

The shopkeep whistled. "That's a pricey little fella you've got there. In good condition too, by the look of it. Find the right buyer and you may be able to settle down nicely."

"I'm not interested in selling it. Do you know this book or not?"

"Well, it's in English, so no, most likely not. Nice cover, though."

Flandre placed the book back. "I need to see how the book ends. The last ten or so pages were...obstructed."

"Obstructed, eh?"

"Let's just say they were ripped out."

Shopkeep made a wince, though she couldn't tell if it was genuine. "Oof, that's gotta drop some zeroes." He went behind the counter and woke up his laptop. "What was the title again?"

" _My Love for the Stained Glass of Yale,"_ she began, and would have cleared her throat to enunciate on the English better if the girl didn't seemingly emerge out of the rain with a black umbrella.

"Thanks for the tape." She said coolly. "I'm here to return it."

"Already done, huh?" The shopkeep caught the strange rectangular device. Flandre had heard of such things used for storage in darkened times. "I wasn't really expecting you to come back, Renko-chan. At least, in one piece."

"It was more like we don't have anything that could run it." Renko shook her umbrella clean. "Which was a shame. I really wanted to see this ghost come out of the TV myself." Her eyes met Flandre.

"Hello."

 _What are you doing here?_ Her face seemed to convey. Flandre almost grinned at her reaction. It was nice to meet a human who could express what they feel about her honestly.

"Right," Renko adjusted her expression and reopened her umbrella. "I'll be going now."

"Now hold a minute, Renko-chan." The shopkeep said. "You said you don't have anything to run the tape with?" There was a sudden change of tone in his voice, Flandre had noticed. She stood up and leaned against the wall. "Why, you're at the perfect place! Come, I'll give you a nice discount on one of my VCR players."

"What? Thanks, but no thanks." She turned down the seemingly random offer and turned to leave. As Flandre had expected, she couldn't. A small, ragtag group of lowlifes deterred her from exiting. A few of them had disgusting smirks on their faces, while the others mostly wore non-descript scowls. All of them carried some sort of weapon, ranging from beat up bats to pipes pulled from who knows what. Renko lowered her umbrella. "What is this? Who are you people? I'll call the police if you try anything funny."

She tried so hard to sound tough.

"Oh come now, Renko-chan," one of the hoodlums at the front said. Something wasn't right with the way he spoke. Flandre saw he had half of his teeth missing. The lower set was just gum. "We just wanna play with ya."

"These gentlemen wish to help you," the shopkeep said from where he stood. "They know about your mom." The thugs moved to form a tight half-circle around her.

"Stay away from me." Renko pulled her umbrella close and waved it around. "D-Don't come any closer!"

"Whoa, that's dangerous." No-Teeth reacted with second-rate acting. "What if that thing pokes in my eye?" Some of the thugs howled with laughter.

"Ya wouldn't regret doing us a favor, bro." A voice from the group called to the direction of the shop, presumably from their spokesperson. "This cute little schoolgirl right here, I reckon she could fetch us a niiiice price. After we're done with her, of course."

"But you'll share the pay, right?" Shopkeep asked. They ignored him. Flandre narrowed her eyes as she surveyed the situation. She went back inside.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Oh, you're still here? Is the book that good?" He reached behind his counter for a pack of vintage cigarettes. "Her mother got in debt with the wrong people. They're going to take her daughter to pay it off."

"And you're just going to let them?"

"Hey, got to keep this place running somehow." The head of the cigarette burned with a quiet intensity. He took it out of his mouth and exhaled a puff of smoke gray as the rainclouds. "You should get out of here while you still can, missy. It isn't unheard of nowadays to have girls missing, especially one with looks like yours."

"Thanks," she faced the crowd, "but no thanks." Flandre snatched the umbrella away from Renko and shoved her fist inside the outstretched arm hovering over her. It bent sideways like a Pocky. The owner of the broken arm let out an unholy scream and fell backward on the concrete ground.

"What's it to you, punk?" They shifted their attention to her. It went without saying they checked her out, and the lowlives began to murmur. "Daaaayum," No-Teeth examined her from top to bottom. "I think we found ourselves a big haul, boys. How about it, come with us and we'll show you a good time."

"Stay behind me," Flandre commanded Renko, who stared at her mouth wide open. "Hurry up." She nodded and moved out of the way.

"Well? We ain't got all day."

"You can try." She said, umbrella in one hand. "Which one of you bastards wants to go first? It's free of charge."

"Hah! Say what!" The guy and his gang shrieked with a raucous laughter. "I don't think you understand, missy. You know what country you're in?"

"Japan."

"Oh, so you do know. Well, lemme let ya on a secret." The toothless rabble leaned onto her face without any sense of shame. His breath smelled worse than he looked. "This ain't your country, and it sure as hell doesn't work the same as whatever shithole you're from. Here, in this part of town, we rule. Now come with us before things have to get unpleasant. For you and your friend."

"I'll come," she leered at him, "when you don't look like an old lady missing half her dentures."

The crowd reacted with a roar more violent than the previous one. No-Teeth gnawed on his empty gums, his face growing redder than his strained eyes.

"You little bitc—"

Flandre sent him flying into the crowd and knocked what was left of his teeth out. The rest of the hooligans charged in with uncoordinated fury. Each met a painful blow in a select region of their body, and their conscious left them before their brains could fully comprehend the intensity of the agony.

"Yaaaaahh!" A man with a scruffy beard swung his nail punctured cricket bat into Flandre's face. Renko screamed, but so did the assailant. His fine weapon snapped in two like a twig. When he saw her turning to see what had touched her, the man fell on his behind and wet his trousers. Fortunately for him, it was raining.

Somebody then grabbed her from behind. "I got her!" The remaining thugs swarmed to their position like ants to a pile of sugar. She considered using the same tactic she had used dealing with Swallow, but the thug wouldn't be able to dodge her wings. So she simply overpowered his grip and swung him around to beat the living daylights of his friends. When that was done, there was only one left standing.

"D-Don't come here!" His legs were trembling. "Y-Ya wouldn't like me when I'm angry!" To demonstrate his threat the guy picked up a rake. Flandre merely raised an eyebrow. She walked back and handed the umbrella to Renko.

"Here. Go crazy." She took it slowly, but she seemed to understand. Renko stomped towards the rake wielder, stepping over the unconscious bodies that rested in her path.

"G-Get back! I mean it! S-Stop!" The guy threw down his weapon and made a mad dash down the street before she could reach him, living to fight another day. Renko chased for a short distance, then she kicked the air with a visible degree of frustration, spraying water at the distant figure.

"Ran away, eh?" Flandre caught up to her. The rain had come to a gradual stop. "I should have told him to deliver a message."

"And what would that be?" Said a Renko soaked in rainwater, who huffed from the exercise.

"I don't know. You must have watched more movies than me. Some sort of threatening one-liner, perhaps."

The girl looked at her, then turned to the piles of bodies. "I think _that_ was your message. And from the look on his face, it went through."

Flandre smiled. "It would seem so."

"Why are you here, by the way?" Renko asked, her hair dripping wet. "Surely you weren't interested in obsolete technology from the 21st century?"

"I came here to look for—oh that's right." She took out the book. "Does this belong to you?"

Renko stared at it. "I've been looking for that for over a week. Why do you have it?"

"It was left at the sweet shop the other day, when you left with your friend. I hope you don't mind me reading." A sudden realization dawned on her. "Hey, you've read this, right?"

"Of course. I've memorized the story by now."

"Even the ending?"

"Definitely the ending."

"Oooh, you need to tell me about it."

"What, you couldn't finish the book?"

"Not yet," she said, "but the part leading up to it was _amazing."_

The two of them sauntered down the street, engaged in a heated discussion about the book's characterization. The shopkeep back at the electronic store watched them leave. He snuffed out the cigarette with his foot, dragged the unconscious away from the premise of his establishment, and closed shop for the day.


	9. IX

It was later when they got on the bus. Renko sat by the window, staring at the moon. The motion made it seemed to move, but at the same time, it wasn't.

"There's going to be a full moon in a few days," she said. "If that means anything to you."

Flandre opened her eyes. "A full moon means as much to me as to those punks."

"Really?" She looked at her. "But don't you feel any special, standing under it? Some kind of transformation, perhaps?"

"That's a werewolf. The full moon is merely a symbol. Was," Flandre corrected herself. "It reminded humans that they weren't at the top of the food chain in this world, or so my sister said."

"Nowadays it's just something to look at, huh." Renko turned back to the window. "Say, do you believe there are rabbits living there?"

"I don't know. How about you go find out? Isn't traveling to the moon possible now?"

"If by common you mean filthy rich, then yes." She squished her face against the glass and squinted at the stars. "It's…almost eight-thirty. I hope Mary didn't go to bed yet."

It turned out Renko knew the ending of the book by heart. Her mother had read it to her since she was a child. To the Usami family, the book was something of an heirloom, a priceless first edition signed by the mysterious author himself. Because of that, she was completely puzzled to find the last ten pages covered by an intangible purplish substance. It almost looked like an eye if you held it at the right angle. They went to find Maribel in hopes of her having an answer.

"Why did you help me?' Renko asked suddenly. "You just got involved with some pretty dangerous people."

"I don't know." Flandre walked alongside her after they got off at the bus stop, hands tucked in her pockets. The rain had let up some time ago. "Maybe I wanted to show you that not all of us are bad."

"If you say so."

They walked through the quiet streets of Kyoto for a while.

"About my mom," Renko began. "She was actually a Yakuza boss's mistress."

"Oh."

"She left went she got pregnant, and had to borrow money to support me. You could figure out the rest."

"Do you find trouble like this often?"

"No," she shook her head. "This is a first. They've only harrassed my mom through mail. She was still the boss's favorite, after all. They couldn't do anything directly."

"Why doesn't he help?" Flandre asked. "The Yakuza boss, I mean. Isn't he your—"

"He doesn't know." Renko looked away, her hand placed on that black hat of hers. "Sorry. I just wanted to say thanks for the help."

"What will you do if they come back?"

"Run. Then I suppose I could move out, me and my mom. My grandmother left us a hefty sum of money. Apparently, her family was pretty well off." And that, Flandre felt, was the end of the discussion. They strolled together for another minute before Renko had something to say again.

"Hey, listen. Sorry for the other day. I was worried about Mary."

"What did you do?"

"I made her leave the sweet shop, remember? She was a little obsessed with this Yukari person. I was sure you were trying to pull something suspicious."

"I really shouldn't have told her that," Flandre agreed. But it really was a reasonable mistake. The two were mirror images, only that one was younger looking than the other.

"Well, that's all water under the bridge today. We're here." She took out her phone and speed dialed a contact. "Mary? Are you still awake? What? You can bathe later, I'm about to enter your apartment with the vampire. Really? You don't have to get dressed for that. I mean put some clothes on, she's just here to visit." Renko glanced at her questioningly. Flandre nodded. "Yeah, all right. Hurry up, we'll be there in five." She hung up.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yep, she's just a little unnerved at our surprise visit." They entered the lobby and pressed for the elevator. "Er, what was your name again?"

"Flandre. Flandre Scarlet."

"Fuan…Fran…Ah screw it, can I just call you Flan?"

She smiled. "Go ahead."

The ride went smoothly. A floor went by with each second. There was nothing to converse with one another with, but there wasn't a need. The silence was enjoyable as a change of pace. When they got off the elevator, Maribel answered them before they rung the doorbell. Her hair was undone and wore a purple shirt with slacks to match. "Um, hello. Flandre-san, was it?"

"You can just call her Flan," Renko called out from inside. She had let herself in unceremoniously.

"Yeah," Flandre replied. "Sorry for the intrusion."

"Don't worry about it. Come on in."

Her house was bigger than Flandre had thought. For an apartment, anyway. Not as spacious or as extravagant as the mansion she used to live in, but with enough care it could be called a home. She preferred here over the sewers, at the very least.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Maribel asked. "You look like the type to prefer tea."

"I'd like the Ramune, please." Her friend called from the sofa.

"But that's my last bottle." She took it out of the fridge and passed it to her anyway. Flandre took a quick peek in her fridge and decided on the lone can of cappuccino. The three of them then positioned themselves around a small desk in the living room.

Maribel noticed the novel lying on her colleague's lap. "Is that _My Love for the Stained Glass of Yale_?" She asked. "You finally found it, Renko."

"I dropped it from my bag the other day, at the sweet shop," Renko explained. "Flan here had it for safekeeping."

"That's very nice of you. Did you happen to read it?"

"I did." She replied and drank her coffee. Cool and sweet was exactly what she expected. Not bad for something store bought. "It had such a lovely story. That scene with the friend's bike was so cute."

"Right?" Maribel agreed. "It's been so long since I've read it, but I could still remember everything. Especially when they had their first kiss."

"You can't talk about their first kiss without the confession," Renko said, from the couch. "When they finally said it to each other, I squealed so hard, everybody in class just stared at me."

"And the ending too. I've never cried so hard finishing a book. They actually go—"

"Waaait, Mary! Flan didn't read the ending yet. Don't spoil it for her."

"You already told me what happened though." But Flandre had to admit, it would have been better to read the ending firsthand.

"Oh. Well, we're to talk about that actually." Renko placed the book on the table. "Flip to page three-hundred and five, Mary."

"Three-hundred and five? Okay." She picked through the book by chunks. "Oh, this is…"

"If you look behind the cover, the signature is still there, so this is the right copy. Flan couldn't get to the ending because of it. Do you know what it is, Mary? I've never seen this before."

"Actually, I think I do." Maribel closed the book and drank from her cup. "This is a dormant gap. I've seen it in my dreams."

"A gap?" Her first urge was to stand up, and Flandre obeyed to her instincts unquestioningly. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. This is my first time seeing it in reality, but it's definitely a gap. To where, I don't know."

"Wait, you guys, hold on a second." Renko sat up. "Why am I left out of the loop here? Just what the heck is a gap?"

"It's what you call that eye-shaped substance in the book," Flandre regained her composure and let herself sit back down. "It has the ability to manipulate the boundary between objects. In other words, it serves as a portal to transport things."

"Huh." Renko held her chin, studying it from afar. "So you guys know where this came from? Or how it got there?"

"It's no doubt created by none other than Yukari Yakumo," Flandre explained, looking at Maribel. "Only she could wield this type of ability. How it ended up inside the pages of this book, I do not know."

"Perhaps…" Maribel began, surprisingly calm at the mention of Yukari, "This might have been a message?"

"A message?" Renko asked, perplexed. "Like what?"

"I don't know."

"If she wants to send a message," Flandre said, "couldn't she just talk to us directly?"

"Can she do that?"

"Yes. She could just come in person. There's no need for all the smoke and mirrors."

"Maybe she's scared of someone."

"Not a chance. If anything, we should be scared of her."

They sat by the book. Nobody said anything for a while. Renko finished the remaining Ramune in one go and placed down the bottle. The marble inside rattled at the impact. "Well, I guess this looks like another one of our strange field trip activities."

Maribel, her partner in crime, responded with a mild nod. There was a certain curiosity placed behind her eyes. She was interested, Flandre could tell, so much that she felt she might have done something wrong again.

* * *

The girls spent the night trying to decipher the closed gap. "We haven't stumbled a mystery like this in a while," Renko had commented. "I'm getting fired up. Let's find out what this gap really means."

"I'm ready." Maribel had answered with a quiet resolve. It must have been especially personal to her. But their determination must have been physically demanding, as they fell asleep right on the spot a few hours later. Flandre went to Maribel's room and picked up a few sheets for them, then she sat in the dark alone, rereading through the book to see if she had missed any clues. Why would Yukari contact them at a time like this? Did something urgent happen to Gensokyo, or the mansion?

 _'So accordin' to the Bible,' begins Quentin, 'people worshipped this golden calf some hooligan made. This is exactly what's happenin' right now. Y'all are just idolizin' over this fad, created by some corporation.'_

 _We look up from our phones, then at each other. It's about time Quentin said something that was befitting of his reputation around school._

 _'Where in the Bible did it say that?' Alison asks him._

 _'Don't remember. Genesis I think, or was it Exodus? Either way, I've made my point.'_

 _'Which is moot.' I comment, and everyone save for the critic murmurs in agreement._

Flandre squinted her eyes. It wasn't as if she couldn't see well. That's an awfully mortal trait to have. No, it was something on that page that caught her attention.

 _'…or was it Exodus?'_

Exodus. A mass migration of people. Was that not what Swallow and the vampires have been doing?

 _No,_ she dismissed the thought as a coincidence. Yukari couldn't have, not after she had done her a huge favor by letting her run. Flandre let the book rest on her face, the musty smell of the pages tickling her nostrils. _But…what if?_ She sat back up and flipped to the dormant gap. The eye was halfway closed, or open, depending on how one looked at it. It lacked the vast void of violet Yukari's gaps tends to have, instead showcasing a blank pupil.

"Exodus," she repeated the word and stared back at the gap. A second later, it blinked.

A reaction, but apparently not strong enough, as it went back to its partially open or closed state.

"…Exodus?"

There was nothing this time. Before she could curse at the trail that slipped away, however, some of the words began to clear on the pages the gap covered. Individual words that had escaped from the depths of the inky substance. One by one her eyes hovered over them.

 _to_

 _distinguish_

 _The_

Those were the words revealed on the two pages. Flandre found a scrap piece of paper and a pen to write them down. She flipped to the next.

 _line_

 _Between_

Next page.

 _The_

 _dark_

 _and the_

Next.

 _light_

That was it. She turned back to see if she had missed any.

"'To distinguish the line between the dark and the light'?" She read the combined sentence in English out loud. Was this a line from a poem? _No,_ she quickly pieced together the words, _this is an old Japanese saying for 'dying with intent'._

A small memory resurfaced from her childhood, back when she still lived in the mansion. There was a famous monk who lived in the Netherworld with the ghosts. He wrote many poems during his lifetime, and lines like this matched with his style. She would know, because he had visited the mansion once.

Something in the gap moved. The eye's pupil began to show colors other than that ugly shade of purple. More eyes with differently colored pupils stared back at her, likely looking for a way to penetrate into her soul. Some were bloodshot, some were sunken, and some didn't look like anything found on Earth. She had figured out part two of the puzzle, and the gap was starting to resemble a real one. The only thing left to find was the ever drifting scenery of the violet void, which, she deduced, must be either somewhere deep in space or a view inside its creator's head.

A sharp glare from outside the balcony assaulted the corner of her eye. It was the break of dawn. A wave of drowsiness splashed over her. She went to grab another spare blanket from Maribel's room and joined the members of the paranormal investigation club for the aftermath of a girls' night out.

* * *

"…an, wake up!"

She opened her eyes and rubbed her temple as she sat back up on the sofa. How many hours had it been? The sun was still rising. Or was it about to set?

Renko grabbed her by the shoulders and pointed at the desk between them.

"Right." She rubbed her eyes and stifled a small yawn. "The gap. While you two were asleep I managed to decipher a few of its security. But it's missing the usual space view and I couldn't—"

"So this is space…it's pretty."

Maribel was holding the book by her lap, and, as she said, the gap was filled with a polished view of a lavender nebula. Countless stars bedazzled her eyes like precious gems. The grand cosmic, she realized, dwarfed all her problems in the world.

"You've done it," Flandre confirmed the view, "but how?"

"I…I just saw the eye when I woke up, so I grew curious and touched it."

"It could've lead to somewhere unpleasant." But she had to commend the girl for her bravery, which is analogous with foolishness. Either of the two described her action well.

In the end, the gap contained three safety measures, all of which were essential in order to awaken it. First was to become aware of an exodus, which at this point Flandre had no doubt that Yukari knew of the vampires' struggles. Had she been watching her this whole time? The second was the poetic sentence the scattered words formed. It felt more like an oath to swear by than anything. One does need to prepare to die when entering Gensokyo for the first time, after all. And finally, the last piece of the puzzle required an authentication. Maribel had proven her relation to Yukari, that much was certain. The real question, however, was what.

Flandre shook her head. What mattered was that she had found it. A way to save her people without resorting to violence. All that's left was to see if this gap functioned.

"Maribel, can I take a look?"

"Sure."

Now for the final test: Yukari's trustworthiness.


	10. X

Flandre opened her eyes and saw the vast, clear sky from the small clearing of the forest's canopy. She sat up. There was no mistake.

"I see. This really works, then."

She took a deep breath. The crisp air was wonderful, free of the murk found in the city. It felt real. The chirping birds, the wandering butterflies, the caps of mushroom poking out from the soft, post-rain earth, it was all real. Flandre rubbed a blade of grass with her slender fingers, then got to her feet. The forest was perfect for a fresh change of scenery. The only road here, a narrow path of dirt, was the same as ever, and if she looked hard enough she could find the house that once belonged to a human magician.

 _Yukari must be asleep,_ she thought, eyes scanning her surroundings keenly as she strolled along the path. _She would have detected me otherwise. Or did she already?_ The idea wasn't quite pleasing, but since she was already here, it mattered little. Best to move along. Eventually she came to the exit, which lead to a rather nostalgic view.

"I'm back, Sis." She whispered. The mist covering the lake was dense as she had last seen it. It almost felt like she never left. It was the same when she arrived at the gate that sealed her home. Sturdy and ornate, it's a simple but effective first line of defense against unwanted guests.

Or that was the theory, anyway. The gatekeeper stood tall, her lean but stout arms crossed over her chest. At the same time, her head drooped below the neck. A comically large bubble formed from her nose, and there appeared to be a never-ending stream of saliva flowing from her mouth. Normally Flandre would palm herself and report to the gatekeeper's superior, but today she wore a smile that reached from one side of her cheeks to another. She was home.

"Meiling," Flandre shook her by the shoulders, "wake up. It's me."

"Aaah," the gatekeeper replied with respect worthy of her lineage, "all this...for me? I-I can't...stuffed..."

"Meiling, I need you to do your job for once. Please, wake up."

"Mmm...Any more...Ooh..."

Flandre gave up. She found a stick and used it to pop the snot bubble. It made a rather sharp sound for something so organic. "Whoa!" Meiling instantly opened her eyes, her body shifting to a martial arts stance. "I-I'm ready! Ain't no one's going to get past me, no sir. I wasn't asleep, it's just my eyes..."

"Hi." Flandre waved with the stick.

"Eh?" She stared. "Huh? You're...but that's...I'm not seeing things, am I?" Meiling rubbed her eyes. "Holy moly! Young master! You're back! It's you!"

"Shhh!" She ordered. "Keep it down. I don't want anyone to see me."

"But young master, it's you!" Meiling said, barely able to contain her excitement. "You've returned! Mistress Remilia was worried about you!"

"Yes yes, be quiet for a second, will you? I'm on here on a secret errand, and only you can help me."

"Me?"

"Will you do it, Meiling?"

"Why yes, of course!" Meiling stood upright, saluting. The gold star on her cap gleamed from the sun, the sign of a true compatriot. "Anything for the young master!"

"All right, two things. First, tell absolutely no one of my return. Not even my sister."

"Um, I'll try, young master, but..."

"No buts! You never saw me. Now then, let me ask you something before explaining your second task."

"Okay. I am yours to command."

"Last time I checked, the mansion had many vacant rooms, at least close to a hundred. Are they still available?"

"Well, young master, I had to help the maids carry a bunch of things last week, and I do recall on entering and exiting some rooms on the second floor..."

"Yeah, those are the rooms. How many of them are still free?"

"I had to go through a whole bunch of them to put stuff down, so I'd say several dozen."

"That'll do. For your second task, Meiling, I want you to leave the gate open for a group of people that will be coming. They have my permission to enter."

"...Eh? But young master, who are these people? Why are they allowed to come here?"

"You'll know who they are once when you see them. They may be either coming at a leisure pace like a bunch of tourists or running frantically towards the mansion, depending on how things will go. Whatever the case, let them in when they arrive."

"Ummm," Meiling scratched her head, "I'm not sure if I'm allowed to do that, young master."

Flandre shot a look at the gatekeeper, then flashed a smile. One cuspid for friendliness, two for times of happiness. More than that is business. She showed four of her fangs. "Do you really want to argue with me, Meiling? You should know that I can throw a bad hissy fit." That seemed to do the trick. Meiling bowed and kowtowed for a full minute, apologizing for her extreme and unredeemable rudeness. Flandre nodded to herself, amused. Remilia always said she could be a great ruler by force. She might be correct.

"Well," Flandre said, "if you don't have any more questions, then it's time for me to get going. Remember, I never stopped by."

"Just one thing, young master," Meiling said. "When will they come?"

"That's the fun part," she answered, cheerfully. "It could be tomorrow, or the day after, or by next week. Who knows. Keep vigilant, Meiling, because if I ever found out that any _one_ of them had trouble entering, I may have to hold you responsible. See you."

Flandre left the mansion, leaving the gatekeeper to soil her underpants. She went to find the spot where she woke up in the forest and looked around. _Now, on getting back,_ she thought. There wasn't a gap in sight, and the book remained at Maribel's apartment...

* * *

When she came to, she was back at the living room with the girls. The book was in her hands. Flandre felt her head throbbing, but decided not to question it. She told the two an abridged summary of her adventure, thanked them for their assistance, then requested on borrowing the novel.

"About that," Renko scratched the side of her cheek. "I want you to have it."

"Are you sure?" She said, after a momentary pause. "This looks valuable. I'll just need it for a short time."

"You can have it, Flan," Maribel reassured her. "It's our thanks for helping out Renko and indulging in my curiosity. Please, accept this as our apology for having dragged you into this mess of ours."

"Don't you want to keep this story?."

"I've read it so much that I could recite the entire thing by heart," Renko said, with a grin. "If circumstance calls, I could just write it down and publish it as my own. If you want, I could grant you a royalty."

"I really appreciate this gesture, you two." Flandre bowed, as per the tradition of the country that she considers her second home. "Maribel and Renko, you have my truest thanks."

"As do we, Flan. Although we didn't do much this time around, this case sure was something."

"No kidding," Renko nodded. "Who would have thought we'd get involved with a real, live youkai?"


	11. XI

On her way back Flandre happened to catch a familiar face among the evening rush hour crowd. She waited until the intersection they were in cleared before paying her respects. "Hello," she walked up to Mayumi from behind. "Thanks for putting up with Haruto. It takes someone with real patience to deal with him."

The girl stopped walking and simply stared at her. "And you are...?"

"Oh, where are my manners." She apologized. "I'm Flandre, part of his family. You could say he's my junior."

The girl was prim and pretty, but it all took was an ugly emotion to destroy the pretense. "You are one of those freaks." It was hatred of the purest degree. "I hate all of you bloodsucking monsters. You should all just die."

Plain and simple, not unlike Haruto himself. Flandre dropped her smile. Did she get the wrong person? She had a feeling she didn't, but who's going to judge Haruto's preferences? If anything, the inevitable breakup will be hard only on one party.

* * *

"This is the answer you've found?" Swallow examined the cover of the novel. " _My Love for the Stained Glass of Yale._ That's a pretty damn long name for a book." At least she knew how to read English. It didn't long for Flandre to explain her plan. Once she was done, Swallow simply stated her agreement. "So this is it," she said, "a form of salvation from this world."

"Do you want to take a look beforehand?" Flandre offered. "It would help to know the area." Swallow shook her head.

"I trust you. You wouldn't have approached me if you didn't have something." She studied the writhing gap, unfazed by the multitude of eyes staring back. "I do have to say, this is certainly interesting. I've never seen such a thing before. It's a portal to another world, you say?"

"It may just be the finest in the world."

"I hope it lives up to your praise." She closed the book with a push on both sides. "By the way, Flandre, I am not doubting your words, but didn't you say you weren't able to contact this old haven of yours?"

Flandre, in response, shrugged. "It was the one who contacted me." Gensokyo is by no means a small land, but they were not the first to enter in recent years. It was a lot less crowded when she was little. What could Yukari possibly gain by helping them? It's strange to think she might be doing this out of kindness, disconcerting even.

Whatever the case, her answer was clear. _She was the one who sent the invitation. I simply accepted it._ As for the conditions (and perhaps consequences), she will have to find out at another time.

As for their plan, the vampires came to a unanimous decision in no time. The faster the better, they decided, so they will leave first thing tomorrow.

"By night, of course," Swallow asserted, and for reasons unknown Flandre found herself chuckling. "What better grand finale could the final vestiges of the children of the night present to this wretched world that they once called home?"


	12. XII

Midnight. The first hours of day that once happened to be the most frightful. The golden moon was larger than usual today. Many of its craters, large and small, were visible.

Flandre wondered if she could spot the Lunar Capital somewhere on that clump of rock. The vampires might appreciate it, since she was given the liberty to select a location for them. They wished to see the full moon of this world one last time before moving onto the next. In time she decided on the park, as it had a nice view of the sky, unobstructed by the city's buildings. A small gust of October wind stirred the fallen maple leaves on the ground. Over the clearing of the trees hung the moon. The vampires gazed at it with full attention, some reverently, some longingly.

"This portal of yours," Swallow approached her, "what if it malfunctions?"

She tore her own gaze away from the heavenly body. "I think it's a little too late to ask that."

"…I had expected so." Swallow chuckled. She appeared to be the only one not so attached to the shining orb in the sky. "It's time for me to meet this dear sister of yours you seem to fond of."

"Just know that she has a tendency to condescend," Flandre warned, if not a bit excessively.

"What vampire doesn't?"

"You seem humble enough."

"Make me six hundred years younger, and you would reconsider your opinion."

The two of them conversed with a degree of carefreeness that was only seen in companies of old friends. She had only known her for a while, but Flandre felt a great connection with the vampire. In many ways she resembled Remilia, yet at the same time she exhibited enough contrasting qualities to stand apart. What she sees in Swallow may just be the one thing she wanted when she was young.

They took slow walks around the park, taking in the quietness of the night and telling each other tales of their travels around the world. Swallow's accounts took place over the ages and utterly fascinated Flandre. She fought in dozens of wars, assassinated a minor but conspiring king in Europe, gave her blood to a dying man in rural China (who ended up becoming Heron), met the famous Princess Kaguya during the Heian era, briefly took up the position as the de-facto leader of the Triads, and so forth. Flandre's own adventures over the past years paled in comparison, however memorable some of them may be. At one point, while Swallow was telling what had happened to her werewolf companion, a small, dainty girl no younger than ten approached where they sat. She was one of the ever-busy kids taken in by Swallow who delivered blood and took care of the small errands. Once they cross to Gensokyo, there wouldn't be any of that. Flandre will make sure.

"Sister Swallow, have you seen Haruto?" The girl asked. "He was here with me earlier today."

Swallow wasn't worried. Maybe she didn't show out of consideration. "It's always him." She said, eyeing the group a little further down where he was supposed to be with. "He must be having trouble saying goodbye to that girlie."

The thought would have been sweet, albeit bitterly melancholic, had Flandre not ran into Mayumi yesterday. Now she just wished Haruto would hurry up and dump her. "I do not fathom," she simply said, shaking her head. The girl looked disappointed, but she gave them a nod and walked away. Flandre watched her small figure leave. "Maybe we should find him. It's almost time."

"Fine," Swallow stood up, "not like you were interested in what I had to say about Tenzo anyway." Before Flandre could refute her point she already went after the girl, looking a little more hopeful. Perhaps this was what she needed.

* * *

They were just about to leave the park in search of Haruto when he came running towards them. "Everyone," he was covered in an unsightly mixture of blood and dirt. "We have to go. Now."

"Easy there," Swallow placed a hand on him, shooting a glance to Flandre. She felt for the book inside her jacket. "We'll start going in a minute. What happened to you, boy? Did her parents chase you out?"

"Mayumi," he panted, resting his hands on his knees. "She's…dammit. They've kept an eye on us the whole time."

The girl who lead them to the entrance shrieked at a direction outside the park. She then crumpled to her knees. Part of her face was blown away, the other half slowly dissolving. A bright, powdery smoke dispersed from where the round struck true, and her body hit the ground with a light thud.

There was no need to issue an alert. Everyone knew, regardless of where they were at the park, that she had fallen. Flandre tossed the book to Swallow, who quickly scrambled for everyone else. That was when they came in. Bizzare, emerald goggles covered up their eyes, their black attire virtually shielded them from plain sight. It was Flandre's first time seeing them in Japan, but she could tell right away that they were the enemy, the same ones who had been driving their kind to the edge of extinction. No others could so much look like the pure embodiment of death.

"Go!" Flandre charged towards them. "I'll handle them!" Her foremost target reacted with impressive speed, the barrel of his combat rifle trained at her temple under less than half a second. But, she found out quickly, they were still human under those masks. Flandre cleaved the glistening bullet of silver along with the man in half with her weapon, an unusually large clock needle with a slight crook by the center. Laser sights quickly found their marks on her back, however, and before the gored body of her first victim touched the ground she was already surrounded. They fired without the slightest hesitation.

They were confident in their victory, and she was eager to prove them wrong. She stabbed the clock needle down and used it as a boost to leap out of the encirclement, then she called back her weapon, which dragged itself across the earth and made mincemeat of the one who got in its way. The remaining squad followed up immediately, turning around all at once and let loose a hail of refined silver in quick bursts. None met its goal, as they were just bullets in the end.

Another squad of the soldiers emerged from the other side sooner than she could retaliate. They gunned for Swallow's group. Flandre was determined to rush to their aid, but the suppressive fire on her side was too risky to ignore. The only way to get there was through them. _Fine then,_ she glared at the soulless eyes of the vampire hunters, _bring it._ Flandre did not move out of her way to dodge the bullets this time around. She simply deflected them skillfully with her needle, slowly but steadily making her way towards the group. Even with numerous silencers attached she could hear the guns ablaze behind her. _Just a little longer…_

The soldier she faced began to retreat. They covered each other by firing at separate intervals. "Alpha squad, requesting for backup." Flandre caught somebody speaking amidst the gunfire. It was English, and distinctively American. "This one is different from the others." Their help came almost at once. A bullet sleeker and longer than the others tore through her hoodie. The image of the girl's obliterated face flashed through her. It was the sniper from before, and she shuddered to imagine what would have occurred if she hadn't swung her head out of the way. Her adversaries used the support to withdraw, flipping outside the park's walls one at a time. She tried to go after them, her outstretched palm throbbing with a primal thrill.

 _…_ _Should I?_

She took cover behind a large maple tree in time of another shot. The sniper was somewhere inside the building which was still halfway under construction. There shouldn't be anybody else inside. Flandre didn't like to use her power, but it had to be done. She climbed atop of the tree, positioned herself on a branch hidden by the foliage, and aimed. A pulse coursed through her hand, an indication that she had found the "eye". With a simple grasp of her palm the building began to collapse, crushed its own weight. By the time it finished falling, everything was in pieces. There was nothing from the rubble that could be considered intact.

The ones behind her took no notice of this. A massacre was what she saw when she turned around.

"No…"

Less than a dozen had escaped through the gap. Over three times the amount lay lifeless on the cold pavement, a repulsive smell of blood mixing with liquified silver sent down a one of a kind fear. She made a mad dash towards them. Swallow, bleeding a river from her right eye, was attempting to retreat further into the park with the remaining group of vampires. Flandre hurled her weapon, piercing through one of the shooters, then latched herself atop of another and clawed his eyes out.

They showed no remorse on shooting their teammate. Flandre raised him to stop the bullets and would have plunged into them were it not for the suspicious sphere rolling her way. It came to a stop by her foot, and by the time she realized what it was, it was too late.

 _Ah._

She shielded most of the white explosion with the body of her victim, but several splinters of silver pierced through her thigh and abdomen. Flandre felt her strength waning. Her legs gave away, and she no longer felt the rest of her body. This was pure, blessed silver, refined with the intent to kill. One fragment could stop the mythical body from functioning. It took all she had to maintain her consciousness, and by then she was lying helplessly on the ground.

They put more rounds through her, primarily her limbs and her torso. The one at the front took out a white knife and carved irregular lines on her body. None of them needed words to convey the intense, seething hatred they felt for her kind. Even with her receptors dead, she could feel centuries of pain from those movements. Was it retribution they delivered, or was it simply mindless revenge? Regardless, Flandre did not scream. She looked at each of them in the eye, hidden by their fiendish visors. What lied behind those? _Eyes of scorn,_ she thought. _Eyes of fear._ Eventually, the one cutting up her body grew tired of the senseless torturing. He gestured a signal to his team. A bulky man in a gas mask stepped out from the soldiers. He wore a golden necklace of Christ crucified on the cross, and he carried a pump in place of the firearms, which connected to the twin cylinders behind on his back.

Flandre squinted her eyes at the unusual equipment. _Fire?_ _Do they plan to burn her body?_

The man turned the valve on his pump and pointed at the bodies.

No.

Water.

Her kin instantly dissolved under the pressurized stream of the tranquil liquid. This type of water didn't kill by drowning. If it did, it was a miraculous mercy. The few unfortunate souls who still had a pulse met a most horrifying end. Their flesh melted, and their bones turned into gobs of goo. And they were still alive. The man hummed an unfamiliar tune as he did his job.

 _So they are the ones who had rid the world of our kind._ Flandre closed her eyes as the last pile of corpses burned. Humanity had truly evolved into the apex predators of the world. Maybe she can let the darkness take over before it was her turn.

 _Farewell, Swallow._ She succumbed to the exhaustion that was gnawing at her. _It's a shame we couldn't get to know each other better. And Sis, goodbye. I'll be going ahead of you, wherever that might be._

 _I'm sorry._

* * *

 _White. All she could see was white. The desolating cold made her body numb. She collapsed onto the snow, drained of the will to keep moving. The maid who walked before her stopped for a moment. All she wore in place of her usual uniform was a crimson scarf, yet her hands were warmer than anything Flandre felt. Dare she say even the sun?_

 _"We're almost there," she said, "just a little longer."_

 _Where were they going? She couldn't remember their destination. All she knew was that they had to go forward, and that they have been._

 _"I can't," Flandre stated. She could barely keep the ice from intruding her thoughts. "This is my limit."_

 _The wind blew harder, and a blizzard soon followed. Snow piled in her eyes. She struggled to maintain her vision. The silhouette of the maid, who was too perfect and too elegant for her own good, was fading._

 _"That is what you believe." She walked away from her and faced the blizzard. "Please remember, young master, that so long as tides of time still turn, there will be people who love you, who care about you."_

 _"Wait…" Flandre wanted to her to stay. She reached out towards her with a weak grasp._

 _"I'll be going ahead," she with her back turned. Her dress fluttered wildly at the coming storm. "Mistress was never satisfied with my service, Flan."_

 _"Come back!"_

 _"But I hope was good enough. For you." The former head maid of the mansion showed her a smile cooler than the snowstorm before vanishing into the bitter maw of the freezing gale._

* * *

"…an!"

Something echoed in the darkness.

"…lan!"

Was it the devil that's calling out for her?

"Flan!"

Or was it the judge?

She saw the full moon first, then the hunters. Their emotionless eyes stared overhead.

"Flandre! Flan!" A voice shouted her name. It was strangely familiar. Who was it? "Is that you?"

"Are you all right?" Another followed. "Who are those people?"

The moon was larger than usual today. She wondered if the Lunar Capital was visible.

"Answer us, Flan, please!"

The voices persisted. They came from somewhere behind her. Her head ached from trying to place a name.

"Hey, piss off, and leave our friend! My dad is Yakuza! He'll skin you!"

Flandre lay there, staring at the moon. Then her eyes widened. _No._ It's those two. _No no no no no._ Why were they here? It was past midnight. They shouldn't at a place like this. Why?

"Sir, those are civilians." One of the hunters said. He sounded fairly young.

"We have our orders." The scratchy voice of his superior replied. "Just put them with the bodies."

 _Wait,_

They never heard her pleas.

 _STOP_

Bullets don't negotiate.

The girls didn't get a chance to finish their screams. All that managed to come out was a soaked croak from one of them.

"Flan…?"

The moon changed its color, and something inside her snapped.

* * *

"Bravo squad, come in! Bravo squad!"

"It's…" Crackle. "…It's a monst—" Cut.

"Return to cover bravo squad! Move move move!"

* * *

The park was not what alpha squad remembered to be. The moon covered the sky and it was _red_. At the center floated Flandre Scarlet, except she was not Flandre Scarlet. Her wings were fully spread, her brilliant crystals glittering from the crimson rays of the moon. She held the clock needle on one hand, a freshly pulled spine the other. There was only blood in her eyes, and she smiled at them, the type of smile that girls reserved for special, intimate moments.

No amount of gunfire could stop her, the creature that once answered by the name Flandre Scarlet. Just one touch of her fingers disemboweled you. Some exploded into bits of flesh and entrails from being just looked at. Those were the lucky ones.

"You fucking monster!" The man with Christ necklace cried, spraying his holy water at the highest output possible. She charged into the stream headfirst, her face disintegrating. "Hahahaha! Fucking vampire bitch!"

But there were more than just one. Another stabbed him from behind, then another to his left, another right. They didn't kill him, so they pulled out and stabbed again. And again. And again, until his pump was relieved of its last drops. But they didn't care. They stabbed until he remained as recognizable as the bodies he burned.

"Shoot!" the captain of alpha squad directed. "Shoot! Don't stop shooting!" His men obeyed with gurgles and choked groans from their severed torsos and decapitated necks. He never knew love. He had a wife and a child left behind overseas, but he never felt any love for them. The only thing he enjoyed was to kill, and ordering to kill. Now that he was being killed, killed in all manners perceivable limitations of the flesh, he understood, if only a little. One of them giggled, and one of them snickered, and one of them chuckled, and one of them had a nice laugh…

And then there were none.

* * *

The first and last thing I ever saw was the moon. When I came to, it was already there. Its luminescence called out to me, just as it did when I gazed at it every night beneath the mansion.

"Had a good dream?"

It was Swallow's voice, that much I could tell. Her face entered my field of view. A dried stream of blood coated her cheek, and a battered hole of flesh lied in the place of her right eye, as if a drill dug inside for a while before changing its mind. "…You look horrible," was all I said.

She blinked, or at least tried to with the mess. "I don't know, do I? Shit, you shouldn't be the one talking."

I laughed. My lungs and my throat hurt. "How did you like my performance?"

"I think I understand the humans a little better now," she said, looking away. "Seriously, this scene doesn't belong in a nice park like this."

"That was the real me." I tried to smile. I don't know if I did. "What do you think?"

"I knew you were different," she shook her head, "but I never imagined this. You may just be his descendant after all."

We watched the moon together for several precious moments. It didn't occur to me that it was beautiful until now, lying on the wet, rancid ground and on the verge of death. You don't appreciate the beauty of something until you lose it, or so they say. In my case, I was about to.

"Hey," I greeted Haruto when he poked his head in my view. He was covered in more blood than before. I wondered how much of it came from himself.

"…You don't look so good." Was all he said, before shoving off to somewhere.

"He must be having it hard," I said to Swallow. I couldn't see her, but I was sure she was close. "I bet he's already blaming himself."

"Should've kept him on a tighter leash, huh?" I heard her say to my right. She was closer than I thought. "No matter what I do, I always end up spoiling my kids."

"It isn't your fault. Or his."

"It's the world's."

I tried to find something to argue back, but my thoughts were growing weak, so I stayed silent. "Hey," there was something I wanted to know before I go, "would you mind doing something for me?"

"…Name it." I heard her getting up. "This old bird is at your disposal."

"Would you mind bringing the bodies of two girls to me?" I said. "A pretty blondie like me, and one with short hair and a black hat."

She returned with Haruto a while later. "Couldn't find them. Are you sure they were here?"

"That's weird," I said. "They were just here."

"Friends of yours?"

"…Yeah." I looked away. Why did they have to come? Because of me, they were robbed of their lives. I couldn't even blame the vampire hunters. They did what they believed in. And I killed them all. So much for my pacifism. It was nothing more than a petty sense self-righteous idealism in the end. If Sis was here, well, she would laugh. A minute later Haruto came back, grunting.

"I got nothing."

"That's fine," I told him, "I probably just imagined them. Hey, Swallow?"

"…Yeah?"

"How many?"

She didn't have to ask what I meant. "Fifteen."

"Out of…fifty-five? Six?"

"Six."

Fifteen. That was the population count of the vampires in this world now, give or take Swallow and Haruto. Fifteen managed to survive this onslaught and escaped to Gensokyo. That was fine by me. Fifteen was better than zero. Or worse, just me.

"Look," it was Haruto, "I…"

"Save it," Swallow ordered. He had no choice but to comply. I would have done the same, with that tone. "Come on, we've had more than our fill of this world tonight. It's time to go see this mansion of yours."

"Do you still have the book?"

Her answer was a solid no; all that was left of _My Love for the Stained Glass of Yale,_ a New York Times best-seller, winner of several awards, one of 21st century's classics, and a limited edition signed by the author was a scrap piece of paper, likely ripped from a page in the book. A minuscule portion of the gap remained, and it was more than enough to transport us home. Well, them.

"Go on without me," was all I mustered to say. It was funny. I had prepared a speech the night before. Now I couldn't even recall what I had for breakfast.

Haruto didn't say anything, but I could nearly hear the frown. Swallow reappeared in my vision and made sure I saw her look of disappointment. "You never planned on coming, did you?"

I shook my head. It took more effort than I realized, and now my neck stopped responding and my head was spinning. Oh well. Swallow and Haruto turned to leave.

"Wait," I stopped them. There was one last thing I needed to do. "Here. Take this. Give this to my sister." I handed Swallow the broken tip of Laevateinn. For such an old thing it had served me well. "She'll know what it means." Swallow took it without words and gave me a last, lingering look before disappearing into the torn page with Haruto. Then a wind blew, and it was swept off somewhere into the night sky. A dog barked in the distance, and crickets began to chirp. At times I heard an owl hooting. The night was becoming alive again.

With nothing left to do with my life, I relaxed my unresponsive body and used my remaining strength to grasp the moon. Even with my perspective, it was too large to hold. Memories of Gensokyo came flooding back. Memories of the mansion, the festivals, the incidents, the spell cards. Those were the days. Maybe I shouldn't have left.

 _No,_ I thought, and I knew why. I don't regret leaving. The world was more than just a sealed paradise inside a mountain range. Others may pursue it, but I seek what they have. There were things in the outside world that Gensokyo doesn't have, and I've come to know many of these during my years of wandering. If given the choice again I would retrace my steps in a heartbeat. A sheltered life inside a sterile land wasn't something that called to me.

Another wind blew, a trail of leaves follow its wake. People call winds the patron of travelers, and they couldn't be more right. They originated from somewhere, like all vagrants, but they couldn't be contained, so they wandered, home to home, town to town. I guess it's fitting that I should die a drifter's death. But the wind had one last surprise for me. The page from earlier flew back, and I used what little strength remained in my stretched fingers to catch it. On it read page three hundred eleven, the last page of the book before heading into a small biography of the author and a few blank pages.

* * *

 _ **When I die, if you would be so kind, bless my passing with cherry blossoms. For I will die without regret—let the flowers represent the beauty of the life I lived.**_ _So speaks the poem._

 _'Interesting, isn't it?' He says, beaming. 'The Japanese had all their light and darkness figured out.'_

 _I wonder._

* * *

It was strange. Renko had already told me about this part. I shouldn't get so emotional over it.

"It's beautiful," I found myself whispering, with tears rolling down my bloodied eyes. The wind took back the scrap piece of paper and my hand fell to my chest. "What a good ending."

Somewhere I heard the ticking of a clock stop.


	13. Epilogue

_So, here we are again._

I followed the chief maid through the mansion's hallways. Scarlet walls, crimson carpets, ruby chandeliers. The estate owner had painstakingly made sure to let every guest know that it was a vampire they were dealing with. Something to keep in mind while they traversed. I had thought it was mildly amusing when I first arrived.

Two columns of fairy maids lined up by the master room. They bowed as the chief maid led me through the center. She pushed open the door, which was another variation of red, and gestured for me to enter. Remilia sat on her throne as always, playing with her wine cup. Today she wore a black silk gown in place of her usual pink dress, with lace gloves and to dress shoes to match. Her blue hair was tied back as a curly ponytail.

"You know, I've been wondering," I said, stopping at by the steps that took to her throne. "How do you cover the expenses? You don't exactly throw last-minute parties with forgotten birthdays in mind. Most people don't get to see one like yours in a lifetime."

"You will know by the time I retire and is in search of a potential beneficiary," Remilia said, her eyes kept on her reflection in the wine glass. "Until then, I'm afraid you'll have to cradle in your curiosity."

"So, never." Though I was told to lay off the formalities long ago―and I certainly do, in terms of conversation―I stood firm, ready for an order. I never liked freeloading, and I didn't want to spend my last days here doing nothing.

Remilia chuckled, showing off her fangs. How long has it been since she last used them? "Who knows? Maybe I'll have a dangerous change of mind by then. Leave the mansion to someone capable and take some time off in the outside world. Things do get monotonous in Gensokyo, after all."

I pursed my lips, having chosen to say nothing. Remilia sighed and sat up.

"I know what you're thinking, but let's discuss that at another time. Today is an occasion for something else." She produced a golden pocket watch from her gown and flipped it open. "We have until six to finalize the preparations. I trust that you will handle it again this year?"

"Would you have preferred someone else?"

"That Haruto fellow seems reliable enough."

"He gets around." I imagined him running through the village, frantically handing invitations and swearing haphazardly at slow walkers.

"I'll save you some trouble this year, then." A snap of her fingers summoned the chief maid from the doorstep, a tall, auburn-haired fairy with navy spectacles. She approached Remilia and bowed, then handed me a slip of paper from her apron. "You'll be responsible for the ones listed here. Have your protege deliver the rest."

"I'll see it done." I gave the paper a glance. The usual list of special guests Remilia deemed worthy of a personal invite. The shrine maidens, the puppeteer, the flower youkai, the moon immortals, so to speak. "If there's nothing else, I'll be going. Some of your friends are quite elusive, and sundown approaches sooner than you think." I turned to leave.

"Hey."

I stopped, clutching the piece of paper in my hand.

"You're always so gloomy around this time of the year. Don't let it go to you. That's an order."

I gave her a half-hearted bow and exited the room.

* * *

There was still an hour left to go by the time I returned to the mansion. The guests were at where they were supposed to be for once, and that alone made my job a whole lot easier.

I stopped before the mansion's gates and found myself drawn to the clock tower. Four fifty-seven, it probably read. Remilia had replaced the hour hand with Flandre's broken spear tip and had the minute hand tossed out. It was a way to remember her, she said. A way for everyone in Gensokyo to remember.

Meiling stood on guard as always. I would have asked her if anyone showed up early were she not slacking off on the job. _What a careless girl,_ I thought, carrying her to a nearby stool. She showed no signs of stirring, instead grumbled about how stuffed she was but had to make best use of her time at the buffet. It was a miracle Remilia hasn't fired her yet.

 _Huh,_ I thought to myself as I studied the snot bubble protruding from her nose. _The way she sleeps, she's quite like him..._

I grimaced as the memories attempted to spill forth. The boy has been dead for over two hundred years, but his last moments refused to deteriorate from my mind. And Dolce's. Julie. The cat. Tenzo. Heron. Flandre. I remember them well. From our chanced encounters, to savored, intimate moments, to their end. I remember them all.

 _Why?_

The spear-hand struck five, and the clock struck five times. Its sounds echoed through my hallowed head, stirring the dead. They seemed to groan, their voices jumbled with those who had fallen. Julie's crying, the cat's pleading meows, directed at me whenever I passed it on the streets, Tenzo's final words to me before he was killed. Heron's deranged speech. Flandre's last request. They rose from their graves, their decayed hands outstretched towards me. My head began to spin as reality distorted, all the while more memories were unearthed. Memories I thought were long erased, weathered by the sands of time. My parents, my siblings, the boy I used to play with next door, my exorcist uncle, the wounded vampire, what happened on the 16th of September, 1999, the unemployed journalist, wanted posters scattering in the wind, nightmares of myself drowning in an ocean of blood red tears. Train crashes, the fire in Karachi, rumors of a Dracula, hatred. The children's cries and their whimpers at the sight of my beaten body. The desert battlefield. A blood moon. Flandre's wicked giggling as she mutilated the vampire hunter to no end. Dates no longer were relevant as my memories spiraled out of control. Each event played in random orders as if they were chronicled into albums and put on shuffle. They crawled up from the dredges of my past, one after the other.

I fell on my knees, struggling to breathe. Sweat poured down my face as I clawed dirt with my nails. Meiling snored beside me, blissfully unaware.

 _Why now?_

"Reminiscing the past, are we?" A voice drifted its way to a miraculously vacant spot in my ear. I thought I knew this voice. A woman. She stood by my front, shouldering a parasol. How long had she been there? "Come, let's get you some fresh air." She turned around and walked into a large hole hanging in space, with bulging eyes that belonged from another world. It looked familiar. Had I seen it somewhere before? Another hole opened up below me, and for a brief moment I fell into a suffocating blackness. When I dared to open my eyes again I found myself sitting atop the clock tower. The woman floated beside me, sitting on a smaller version of the strange hole as if it was solid to touch. She had long, golden locks, and violet eyes that reminded me of the wondrous depths of uncharted space.

"Yukari Yakumo," I said. The feeling of the wind gently caressing my face calmed down the voices. At least, to a tolerable background volume. I took a deep breath. "This is our first meeting, is it?"

"No," she said, looking straight ahead. "This is actually the second time."

I rubbed my hand on the spot that was once my right eye. The silver was extracted, but I still felt the stinging embedded there.

"Do you not remember me?" She faced me. I stared into her eyes again, and before I knew it, I was back in the 11th century at my home village, standing before the Japanese monk and his ghostly pale swordsman companion. An odd pair, the two made. They were looking for an ancient artifact. I risked a search through my memories, trying to look for more details. That's right, they had someone else with them. A young, beautiful foreigner girl with snow-white skin, who spoke Chinese so perfect it was as if she had invented the language.

I remembered.

"You're...from back then." Was all I could say. I tore away from the vision of the smiling monk and looked towards the view of the gigantic lake below, unblinking. "I didn't take you for a youkai."

"I was told to hide it," Yukari replied, pleased to see I hadn't forgotten. Could I ever? "The monk was keener than I was, I'll give him that."

"You guys showed up during the bandit raid. Wanted to find Princess Kaguya's Fire-Rat Robe."

"Times were simpler back then," she smiled, her eyes looking distant.

"How long ago was that? Eight hundred...no, a thousand years?"

"Somewhere around a thousand, yes."

"Huh." I leaned back on the roof and stared at the orange skies, then sat back up. "I didn't expect to see you again."

"How brutally honest." She took out a paper fan from a smaller hole. "But truth to be told, I didn't either."

I suddenly realized why I recognized those holes. "It's you. You were the one that helped Flandre. Things are becoming clear now."

"I've helped her several times," Yukari said, fanning her lips lightly. "Which occasion might you be referring to?"

I recalled the last few words I exchanged with Flandre before stepping into the page. What was left of it, at least. "She had a book that contained one of your portals."

"Ah," she said. "That was a lovely novel. I'm glad she picked up what I was trying to convey."

"Why did you help us?" I asked. "Flandre was one thing. You knew her. But to save the hides of a rag-tag bunch of vampires desperately clinging to life? What do you gain from all this?"

She took a while before speaking. "I suppose I wanted to have her feel indebted. Even a halfwit could see how much you and your group meant to her. I wanted something to hold against Remilia, and the girl's powers may come in handy one day."

I chewed on her words. Selfish, vaguely malevolent, and schemeful. Exactly what her reputation was around Gensokyo. "A convincing story," I finally said, "and would have fooled me if you weren't so open about it."

"I don't like being secretive. It shows the fragility of a person's character."

"I could take a simple answer, you know, like 'I don't know', or 'I felt like it'. Sometimes the greatest decisions are made with the most trivial of reasons in mind."

Yukari studied me with a neutral expression. Then she stood up, frowning.

"What?"

"Oh dear."

I looked at where she was facing. A large column of smoke stretched to the skies. It came from the direction of the human village.

"Come," she said, opening up a portal. "I suppose I owe it to you. You should see it in person."

* * *

I pushed through the crowd, tossing out curses here and there. Yukari was already at the front of the scene by the time I got through. The fire was put out soon after I arrived, though the house in question was charred to a midnight black. It was honestly surprising to see it still standing.

"I told you to stop fooling around with them magic!" An old man yelled loudly by the still smoking entrance. He was talking to a girl whose back faced me. She wore a dark red kimono and had shoulder-length black hair. "Now look what you've done!"

"Not my fault you didn't turn off the stove! All of this wouldn't have happened if you just listened to what I had to say!"

The old man let out a deep sigh, ignoring the girl's retorts. "I told you over and over not to play around with witchcraft. How am I going to face your parents when I die?" He fell to his knees and started to cry. "Ichirooo! Your daughter went down the path of the devil! Dabbling with black magic! Why do I have to bear this shame and burden alone?"

"If that's how you feel, then I'll just leave!" The girl stormed past him and went into the building. It collapsed just a second after she came out, cradling a pile of belongings in her arms. Tomes, flasks, alchemical ingredients, and notes."I'll move into that old house in the forest. You wouldn't have to worry about me anymore."

The old man continued to cry, head buried in his palms. No one in the crowd moved to comfort him or stop the girl when she walked through the path they made, though they did whisper among one another.

"...Poor old Eiji-san. Right after his retirement..."

"His granddaughter is possessed, I'm telling ya."

"...wonder if she'll make it in the forest. I heard it's crawling with youkai."

I paid no heed to their words. Instead, I found myself focused on the girl. She spared me a sideways glance with her almond eyes as she went down the street. Eventually the crowd dispersed for the approaching evening, the villagers heading home and the merchants closing shop. I stood by the crumbled house, my eyes still staring at the road. The old man kept on crying.

"It...can't be," I finally brought out the words out of my mouth.

"It's her," Yukari said, almost confidently. "Or at least, it was her. Do you believe in reincarnation, Swallow?"

"I thought she was born on the outside. Why is she in Gensokyo?"

"Who knows?" She brought her fan to her lips. "My theory is that she had considered this place as her true home, thus her soul became bound here. You'll have to ask the Yama if you want details."

Yukari had more to say, but I didn't bother to listen. I didn't want to. Instead, I ran. I ran with everything I had in those aging legs of mine. The distant striking of the clock tower reminded me that the party has started, but that was all right. Remilia was in for a surprise this year. I hoped she wouldn't mind the presence of an uninvited guest.


End file.
